Oniisan
by IttyBittyTidbits
Summary: Because the one who loves you the most is right in front of you.
1. Chapter 1

**Oniisan**** 1: Prey**

_Everyone has a different fate. _

_My fate is more different than half the people in the world._

_Everyone has something they'd rather keep to themselves._

_I have a deep, dark secret that I think I will take to the grave. _

_Everyone has something that gets their heart pounding._

_That deep, dark secret sends the blood straight to my head._

_Everyone has something that will kill him to share. _

_When the time comes and I cannot but share my secret, I will kill myself. _

~010101~

I cannot recall a time when I was not like this. My life, as I knew it, was measured not in terms of years, but in scattered memories. Memories that featured only one person. If anyone knew about the real me all those years past, they would have thought me quite the frightening child.

I believe that I was born to live out this wretched life. At two years old, I learned to say his name. Evermore, his would be the name that was constantly upon my lips. When I was five I idolized him. Seven, I wanted to please only him. Nine, he became more than my hero. Ten, I was irrevocably attached to him. Eleven, I couldn't sleep without him. Twelve, I fell in love with him.

It wasn't that I didn't know I was unnatural. What I felt had to be wrong, though I couldn't for the life of me understand why. And I did try to stop. All of my thirteenth year I agonized over this strange attraction, driven to the fore when he was accepted into the Kainan starting five as a freshman and my roiling hormones saw in his court play the condensation of everything desirable. Which was why, in the spring of my fourteenth year, I resolved to curb my addictions and left to study abroad. But two years with the barest of communications did me in, and I found myself quitting my Swiss boarding school half term and booking the next flight home.

He was waiting for me at the airport. My heart turned over at the mere sight of him, something that strings of European boyfriends inevitably failed to do. And in that one moment when I rushed to him and he swept me up into a big, welcoming hug, I knew that what I felt...that the love I had for him...would never change.

So I was strange. So I wanted to indulge my wickedness. So I decided to stop being a martyr. So I am in love with Maki Shinichi. So I am in love with my brother. So what?

So I am scared. I am scared that he will find out and will hate me forever. A lot of times when I lay sleepless on my boarding school bed wishing he was beside me, the evil of my fascination hit me, and I am more than scared. Times like those I begin to hate myself. I stare into the blackness and pray to whatever gods would hear my filthy wishes and ask that he will never know. That no one will ever know.

"It's great to have you home, Yulia-chan," he murmured, and I remembered again how I loved to hear him say my name. I like my name; he gave it to me. My namesake was his old teddy bear, a Russian affair sporting a collar and a nametag with "Yulia" inscribed on it. When basketball became more important than poor old Yulia the bear, he gave her to me.

I hadn't wanted to take it. "Oniisan will someday tire of Yulia-chan too, and give her away," my four-year-old self complained in a flood of tears. He was seven.

"Never," that child promised, wiping my eyes with his dirty basketball jersey. "I will never give Yulia-chan away."

I think that innocent exchange awoke the beast within me.

An arm's length away, I stared up at the towering figure above me, anxiously wishing he did not find anything objectionable in his scrutiny of myself. But his smile widened and he yanked me to himself for another hug. "Oniisan's missed you terribly."

I only laughed. I wanted to tell him I missed him too, probably more than he did me, but the sentence wouldn't get out of my throat. "It's great to be back," I agreed instead, lamely.

All the way home he could talk of nothing but my finishing the term at his school. I was glad that he was excited to have me around, but also a little nervous as the topic turned to my old school. Eventually he asked, "So why did you leave so suddenly?"

He was looking out the window, trying to appear uninterested. I knew then that he was immensely curious. I watched him studiously to make sure he wouldn't try to read my expression when I was off-guard, and replied, "Oh. No reason."

His forehead furrowed a moment. "Right." But he didn't push the matter.

"By the way," I said in a desperate attempt to change the darkening mood, "how's the basketball team? I heard Oniisan was made captain."

Instead of replying right away he sent me a long, sly look. "Dead curious. Our resident wild monkey was of the adamant opinion that I was skipping practise to pick up a long-lost lover."

I know my face turned red.

He laughed; shook his head. "Kiyota's an idiot. Sometimes I don't know what possessed coach to keep him in the team. But his distracting antics are helpful in any game," he added grudgingly. "If you'll stay late after school tomorrow –"

"I'll stay late after school tomorrow," I cut in. He grinned his lopsided smile.

"Right. You might meet the rest of the guys. With supervision, of course."

When I laughed this time it was a little painful. I didn't want to meet any other guys. I didn't need any other guys. But as long as he didn't know that, he would believe me to be like any other normal sixteen-year-old girl who wanted a boyfriend.

"Right," I echoed, and there was nothing more I wanted to do then than to lean against him and close my eyes and pretend for a while that I didn't have to hide this love.

~010101~

Rivals abounded in Kainan. The hardest part was acting polite to them when all I wanted to do was glare them down and scare them silly. Oniisan was mine and only mine, no matter how the futility of the situation made the back of my eyes sting every time I thought about it. At the end of the day I found myself holed up in my room, Yulia the bear smushed between my chest and the edge of my desk as I rested my chin on her furry head and narrowed my eyes in thought.

Practically the only thing good about my first day was meeting his teammates. I had forgotten that the basketball club was composed of all boys. I did not miss the interested looks, and the winks, and most especially not the boisterous foolery of the wild monkey hereafter known also as Kiyota Nobunaga. Perhaps through him I could redeem myself yet. Or one of those boys could help me hide my affliction better.

The aforementioned wild monkey was a reasonably good choice. He was noisy, gullible, and obviously smitten. Just a few bats of the eyelash, a couple of well-placed winks, and he could be my perfect new mask. And yet the thought made me groan and sink further into Yulia's plush head.

'What to do, what to do..." I grumbled, repeatedly squeezing and un-squeezing her paws. Kiyota Nobunaga was easy to catch, but hard to shake off. And on the off chance that he found me out, I wasn't sure I could trust him. Maybe...I could make do with that quiet shooting guard instead? But he didn't look like the type to fall for seduction.

"What to do, what to do..." and I covered my eyes with Yulia's paws.

"Need any help?" his voice floated into the room, so abruptly and so wryly that I started up.

"Oniisan!"

He loped into my room; spared an amused glance at my pile of suitcases, the innards of which had been pulled out and scattered about the immediate vicinity. "I see you've begun unpacking."

"No, I...actually I thought I'd do them tomorrow..." Yulia fell off the corner of my desk. I bent down, thankful for the distraction. A surreptitious glance towards the luggage pile revealed, to my immense relief, that I had not left any underwear lying around. I straightened, but knocked onto my desk when I suddenly found him standing only two feet away. I must have tried to stammer something vaguely coherent.

"You're all red," he observed with a concerned little frown, and cupped my cheeks in both his hands. "Warm, too. You're not coming down with anything, are you?"

"No," I squeaked, clutching Yulia fiercely. "I'm just tired."

"Maybe you should skip school tomorrow and rest."

And miss seeing him for one day? "No! I mean," I continued in a rush to correct my misplaced vehemence, "It's not nice to skip during my first week in school. Besides, there's nothing to do at home."

His hands left my face. "Sleep early, then. Feel better tomorrow." He moved towards the door. "Good night, Yulia-chan."

I stared after him, dumb with the rush of feeling his touch had left me. Before I knew what I was doing, my body moved of its own accord and I was running to him and grabbing the hem of his shirt.

A half-turn. Gentle eyes. Soft, wind-blown brown hair. "What is it?"

A rush of blood. Weakened knees. Trembling hands. Emptied mind. "A-anou...can I – can I stay with you tonight? Like the old times?" I remembered to add. My head was getting light. Would he be able to guess?

"Sure." And my vision refocused, zeroed in on his openly pleased demeanour. Was that relief I saw? "Come on."

I raced him to his room, dizzy with joy and remorseful with guilt. Because when the lights were dimmed and Oniisan slid into bed and gathered me to himself and pulled the blanket over my shoulders, I thought only about reacquainting myself with his scent. And his body heat. And the wonderful-ness of being so close to him. When I shivered over my misdeed, he ran a soothing hand down my cold arm, completely unsuspecting that he was petting a household monster. I feared for him, but I could not help myself.

Long after his murmured "Oyasumi" my breaths still came raggedly; my lungs still burned with something I had not felt for what seemed like forever. I squeezed my eyes shut, bit my tongue until I thought it would come off. And when the lovely man beside me drifted off I curled up closer to him, holding my breath until I could trust my voice again.

"Oyasumi," I whispered to his chest, and the darkness swallowed up the wish. He stirred, shifted a little, and was still. Then, and only then, did sleep overtake me.

**~010101~**

**A/N: I warned you... :D**

**This was thought up one latte-powered night after watching the first episode of Angel Sanctuary. I've got another ongoing fic, but I missed the darkness of madmen and just had to put this down. Please review. Continue reading if you wish. But always remember that you have been forewarned. **


	2. Chapter 2

Oniisan 2: Mask

We lived together, just the two of us, like a real couple. I often evoked that picture those first days back at Kanagawa while I did chores around the house. He always said he could do half of the housework, but he was oftentimes so busy he was rarely home. Some days he was busy over some school activity. Other times, basketball took up his time. Usually, he wasn't home because of basketball.

This didn't sit too well with me at first, until I recognized a golden opportunity for indulging my mania in his frequent absences. His schedule was erratic at best, but he always told me where he would be, when he would be home, and where to call him if I ever needed anything. On my first day of school he gave me a new cell phone as my old one wouldn't work at all in Japan. His number was on speed dial one. So many times in class that day I fingered the sleek keypad under my desk, teasing myself, urging myself to abuse his kindness.

But I never did.

We walked home together everyday, split for a couple of hours to do homework, and reunited again at bedtime. Ever since I let on that I was scared of the dark he had always let me sleep in his room. On his bed. Right beside him. Of course, I wasn't so devoid of feeling that the little story I concocted didn't strike the self-reproachful thread of dishonesty within me. I hated lying to him. But then again, if sprouting harmless baby untruths were the only way I could get as close as possible to the object of my obsessions without arousing the least bit suspicions, I would lie right down to my deathbed.

He was always out on Saturdays. Weekend mornings began with the habitual jog that had him rising on some godforsaken pre-dawn hour. He'd get out of bed with the slightest movement possible, but with him would go his heat and I'd wake up. I never let him know, though. Part of the fun was lying in wait – wait for him to rearrange the pillows around his hapless criminal of a sibling; wait for him to lean so proximately his sleeping shirt would brush against my cheek; wait for him to draw the covers up, a hand lingering upon my naked shoulder. Always. It was the same every Saturday. He'd move around his room, changing into a tracksuit, I suppose, and leave. He never closed the door. Through its gaping crack I'd follow the ghost of his presence down the stairs, through the hall, and finally out the front door where its faint trail would finally snap off and die. I'd lie still for five more minutes, and then cautiously get up.

He wouldn't be back for another hour. I filled the first ten minutes of that hour with longing, burying my face into the pillows that still smelled of him, curling up in his recently vacated space of the bed, immersing myself in a hallucinatory blaze of happiness. And when the warmth he left behind faded – it faded in exactly ten minutes in the descending humidity of the approaching summer – it was a signal to become the dutiful, albeit illegal, illegitimate, secret, closet, wife of sorts. There was his bed to be tidied, and breakfast to be made. When he returned from his jog I'd be waiting for him, towel in hand.

"Okaeri, Oniisan."

He shot me a puzzled smile the first time, teased about picking up a little sister from the airport and not a maid. But he eventually got used to it. I managed, with no small amount of success, to get under his skin. This I knew for sure when, one Saturday that breakfast took no time to make and I headed to collect Yulia the bear who had just been washed and had been left on the porch all night to dry, I found her darling self upside down on a muddy patch of grass, her chair apparently knocked over by some treacherous wind that howled while I dreamed my wicked nocturnal fantasies. I was obliged to give her a second bath before the muck set in and stained forever, and was just scrubbing her tainted muzzle in a plastic laundry room basin when his voice boomed through the house, the tinge of worry obvious in it.

"Coming!" I yelled back, snatching a towel off a pile of freshly ironed laundry. He met me in the middle of the hall. "I'm sorry," I began. "I didn't notice Oniisan arrive. Yulia fell over and –"

"I thought something happened to you," he sighed.

"Oniisan needn't worry," I laughed back, warming all over at the thought of him getting anxious over a single missed appearance. "I'm indestructible!"

"I sure hope so," he laughed back. "Now, what was it about Yulia the bear that you were saying?"

I shook my head. "She got dirty again. I was giving her another bath when Oniisan arrived. But never mind that..."

He was already on his way to the laundry room. When I caught up I saw him, sleeves rolled up, pouring out my puddle of soapy suds. "You're abusing the poor thing," he chuckled, nodding at Yulia the bear's wrinkled snout. "Be gentle, Yulia-chan. The mud will come off."

I stood watching from the threshold, my heart for once miraculously still. Oniisan. A god sent down from heaven. The greatest Sin, the blight, of my life and...and...the very purpose of my existence.

I hadn't realized I was crying until he asked why.

"Why what?"

"Why are you crying?" he gently repeated, rinsing his soapy arms and coming to me.

I could only shake my head, unable to contain the bout of tremors that wracked me as I desperately pressed both my hands over my mouth in a desperate attempt to stem the flood of tears. Kneeling to my level he held me and rubbed slow circles on my back.

Perhaps the increasing horror of my attraction and its consequent ploys brought me to tears. Or perhaps my overwhelming love for him did.

At any rate, he watched me more closely for the duration of the day, finding various excuses to stay at home. While I finished unpacking and putting away, he sat backwards on my desk chair, following my every self-conscious movement with speculative eyes.

"You miss Switzerland, don't you?" came the unexpected question.

I don't know why he was so intent on digging out the reason for my impromptu tears earlier that day, but I supposed it had to be easier to just agree to whatever suggestion he came up with and try to live said suggestion up.

"A little," I replied, all hesitation.

He mused for another wordless minute and then, "Left a boyfriend behind?"

I had to smirk. "Left a lot of ex-boyfriends behind."_ Who still cares anyway?_ I could feel his stare upon my back as I fumbled and pretended to be busy re-organizing my bare chest of drawers.

"Fine. So you'll never tell me why you cried. Was it a girl thing?"

"It was a girl thing," I agreed instantly, and slid the bottom drawer shut. He unfolded himself as I clambered up my bed and sat staring at him.

"I have a great idea."

I sat up straighter.

"Why don't you go shopping?" I must have looked surprised because he continued in a rush, "Girls...in general...seem to believe in what they commonly term as 'shopping therapy'?" He looked so unsure it was funny. "Anyway, I thought it might work for you. Yeah. Whatever."

Roundabout. It was another charming characteristic about him: one that only really surfaced when he had trapped himself in an awkward situation he couldn't dodge out of.

I rolled off the bed. "Oniisan, if you have somewhere to go, you don't have to stick around."

"But..." The protective gleam shone in his gaze.

"I'm not crazy," _yet,_ I assured him. "But if I ever do have a fit, I'll make sure to call you first."

The beginnings of a smirk finally twitched up a corner of his mouth. "And what will you be doing with yourself all afternoon?"

I shrugged. "Explore Kanagawa? Restock the pantry? I was supposed to do that last week..."

He took a while to think it over until finally saying, "Okay, but be back before it's too dark out. And bring your cell phone. You know where I'll be."

Oh, I certainly did. If he knew the extent of my demented knowledge, he'd commit me to an asylum and leave me to rot there.

~010101~

The most rewarding thing about secret infatuations was maintaining an outward calm despite the jumping, breathless giddiness within, triggered by the barest of fluttering brushes of skin on skin, by the slightest hint of appreciation over a labour of love, by the most open of smiles, and by every other thing deemed desirable by the slave in the master. And the ultimate consummation of joy in every one-sided relationship was the freedom to giggle and shudder with delight over exaggeratedly romanticized encounters recalled hours, months, even years after their initial occurrence. It is worth every gut-wrenching fear of discovery, every maddening attempt at secrecy.

But though secrecy becomes a heavier burden with the escalation of passions, it is locked in place by guilt. The greater the guilt, the harder it becomes to do away with absolute silence. So the perpetrator, being only a frail human that someday shall break, will always find ways to prolong discovery, oftentimes throwing away all precaution, all finer points of humanity, for the sake of preserving the sanctity of her immoral hunger. The perpetrator will often find a mask.

Despite my misgivings, that mask threw himself at me almost as if he were applying to be the poor hapless creature that must be torn down by my selfish intentions. After parting ways with Oniisan, I had determined to cleanse my mind, to remain pure if only for a fleeting afternoon. I let the wind blow away all the shadows of my soul, let the sun thaw the calculating coldness of my desire. The streets of Kanagawa were fresh and sunny, perfect for rational, _normal_ thoughts.

Until he came upon me at the supermarket.

We collided at the spices. I was browsing through a dizzying selection when my shopping basket hit him on the shin. After his initial hiss of pain and my train of apologies he straightened, clearly pleased to have been bruised.

My mask and I were in the same year level, though in different classes, and he always (I am sure this is no figment of a vain imagination) made a point of passing by my room every break time. Sometimes he would prance in, usually on the pretext of speaking to some friend of his who sat in the desk before mine.

His visits were inconvenient, as he also always found the need to interrupt me in the middle of a daydream. "Konnichiwa, Yulia-san," he'd always say, and then would stand beaming, waiting for my response. If I hadn't any plan to use him, I would have flatly ignored him all those times. But it was imperative to appear reasonably normal if I didn't want people to begin suspecting. And normal was defined as fawning over the varsity athletes.

"Had a good day, Kiyota-kun?" I'd reply evenly, whereas he'd nod and enumerate the high points of his day so far while I stared past him and pretended to be listening.

Today, though, I did not stare past him. My greeting back was sincere for once even as the designs chained in the back of my consciousness began to rattle their shackles to be let out. Reversing his direction, he walked with me through the spice aisles with every intention of touring through the entire supermarket.

"No Saturday practise?" I asked innocently. Of course they didn't. Oniisan was off to school on some other errand. But asking a question close to his heart – and daily life – gratified my victim exceedingly.

He laughed, linked both hands behind his head in an aggravating show of uncertain suave. His swagger was even more discomfiting. "No, Kainan's already a good enough team."

"Oniisan said never to grow overconfident," I murmured. He dropped his awkward arms from their even more awkward initial position, cleared his throat, and mumbled,

"Yeah. He did." When I made no attempt at conversation for the last two aisles he must have thought I was upset because he offered to help carry my groceries home.

Hell no. I would not have him invade my sanctuary. "Thank you, but I can manage," I diplomatically replied, throwing in a saccharine smile to soothe the disappointment. We were nearing the checkout lanes. "Kiyota-kun's been really nice about accompanying me that I couldn't bear for him to forget his errands."

At the mention of errands he took on a wide-eyed expression, expletive ready at the tip of his tongue. But apparently realizing that he was in the presence of a lady, settled for a sheepish laugh instead, admitted that he had forgotten to pick up the things his mother asked him to, and bowed me alone. Before he could completely disappear from sight, though, he scooted back to my side, red in the face.

"A-anou, if the team doesn't have practise next week, do you think you'd want to hang out? I heard Maki-san say that he intended to bring you around Kanagawa but just never seemed to have the time. If – if you don't mind, that is."

Hang out with him instead of Oniisan? His suggestion at first made me bristle. But in the space of the milliseconds I had to collect myself I reconsidered. "Let me think about it," I said at last.

When we parted ways I was conscious of my triumph. I was right. Kiyota Nobunaga was an easy fish to catch. Now that he was biting my bait, I just had to figure out whether to reel him in or to leave him thrashing in the water.

**~010101~**

**A/N: Dearest Kiyota fans: **

**I do not like him. So sorry. Jin was supposed to be the victim, but I'd throw a hissy fit if he were ever mistreated (even by one of my OCs). So please, bear with me. **

**Sincerely, **

**The Author :) 3**

**PS. (to everyone else who doesn't mind [a bit of] Kiyota abuse) Please do take the time to review. I'm no Nabokov, but I'm doing my best to write convincingly. Critique would be invaluable. ^^**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: As I'm typing this, I've got one more day of writing suspension to go. Screw that. I had to shake myself into reworking this before trudging on to the semi-turning point of the story because when I attempted to re-read the previous chapters I read, I couldn't look my writer self in the face for shame. Forgive me for putting all you dear readers through that unspeakable crap. **

**With this edit, I hope to keep the plot clean and the foreshadowing relatively clear (because my whole plan is still to jump things onto you, and I foreshadow only to have something to justify my future actions with). This entire chapter has been reworked. I don't know about the others, but I still plan to keep the few useful scenes intact. The rest, I plan to rip up and burn. **

**A big THANK YOU to Starry! Your last frustrated review served as a very effective smack upside the head. I hope this reworked version is an improvement. Love you! :3**

**To all other readers who have read the old, rutty version: if you don't want to have to reread all the chapters I cleaned up, pop over to the last one. I'll leave a short backgrounder on the changes right before the chapter. **

**~010101~**

Oniisan 3: Insinuations

With summer I-Highs came greater pressure. But the team was still in tip-top shape. This I ascertained as I watched one of the reserve players zigzag across court, smirking as he by-passed the defenses of one of starting fives. Raising his arms, he made to shoot – only to have the ball swatted right out of his hands by a calmly smiling Jin-senpai.

Like I said, perfect shape.

A brief tussle for the ball found it in Oniisan's control. I leaned forward onto the second floor balcony railing, chin atop my folded hands. Kiyota flashed right before him, challenging him to a one-on-one. His concentration was keen: brows drawn together, eyes glued to the ball. My attention flitted back to Oniisan. I couldn't see his face from where I stood, but judging by the rhythmic bouncing of the ball, I guessed he took Kiyota for nothing more than child's play.

The ball continued its ascent and descent. Kiyota was crouched forward, arms spread and knees bent.

A final bounce. Oniisan made to drive forward.

Kiyota took the bait. He edged back, whereupon the ball switched to Oniisan's free hand. By the time Kiyota had taken stock of the situation, his captain had glided past him.

In a motion that surprised even myself, Kiyota whipped around, batting the ball from Oniisan mid-dribble. He streaked to the other side of the court, where a score of bodies rose up under the net. His foot hit the three point line. He bent to shoot. The defenders bore down upon him. Oniisan, catching up, closed the defense from behind. I held my breath. There was no way out.

Then, in a move I had seen only Oniisan do, Kiyota flung the ball off to the side, under the upraised arms of his defenders, and right around the captain himself. Then calling forth an impossible speed, he slipped past the shell-shocked faces of his opponents, retrieved the ball, jumped, and let it loose.

It sank seamlessly into the basket.

The spectators erupted into a loud cheer. Panting, sweat running down the sides of his suddenly too-serious face, the conqueror scanned the crowd, met my eye, and saluted.

That's when I saw the slightly winded figure behind him. Oniisan had followed his gaze and now stood looking at me questioningly. I let a deliberate smile spread across my innocent mask.

_What? Jealous, love?_

~010101~

"Did you see how our team _very nearly won_? If that last basket went in, we should have beaten Maki-san's team!"

"I'm sure you could have, Kiyota-kun," I replied, a purr in my voice.

"Not in a million years," cut in a wryly amused one, and I turned to find Oniisan standing right behind me. "But it was a good try, Nobunaga."

I was actually reminded of a fish when Kiyota opened his mouth to retort before closing it again without so much as a non-committal grunt. Oniisan put a hand on my shoulder.

"Ready to go?"

"What?" his subordinate screeched. "But...but Yulia-san, you promised..." he trailed off, looking at me pleadingly, but casting uncertain glances at Oniisan all the while.

I blinked at him.

"You know...?" he waggled his eyebrows, flapping his hands in pseudo-sign language.

I really couldn't remember. Whatever I had promised him had slipped completely out of my head. I told him so. With the addendum, of course, that because the marvellous game had pushed everything else out of my mind. Then I internally winced as my sensors picked up on Oniisan's eye-roll.

However, as Kiyota could not be perceptive enough to save his life, and therefore, could never begin to fathom the deep links people like Oniisan and I had, he had to settle for looking chagrined. "You promised we could go for ice cream after the game."

Oh, yes. That I did. At least, until –

"Sweets are bad for the stamina," Oniisan cut in again, all seriousness. "Besides, today's training ended late. Yulia's got homework." He nudged me. "Don't you?"

"Uh..." I stammered, widening my eyes. "Y-yes. Yes, I do. A whole boatload of it, in fact," I went on, completely forgetting that I was supposed to play the role of the subtly seductive sophisticate. It was only when Kiyota's shoulders slumped and he began to look dejected that I realized the need to salvage the situation.

"I'm really sorry about tonight, Kiyota-kun. How about I make it up to you some other time?"

"Really?" He looked happier already.

From just a hand, Oniisan looped his arm around my shoulders. The grin that took over was everything past maniacal. "Yes, really."

"Just like we _really_ have to get going now." Oniisan said, tone pointed. "Don't get too impatient with your offense, Kiyota. You're very easy to read."

Perking up at this pointer, he responded with a dogged, "Hai!" And finding his grin once more, waved to me. "See you tomorrow, Yulia-san!"

I didn't get to throw more than a last backwards smile because Oniisan was walking so fast, steering me so determinedly away from his teammate that I had to hurry to keep up with his long strides. He didn't say a word the entire way home.

He only seemed to come to late that evening, while watching NBA. I had plopped down beside him, going through the first three quarters uncomprehendingly. By the time the millionth time-out was called, I could barely keep my eyes open. That was when he chose to speak.

"There's ice cream in the freezer."

"Hm?" I caught myself before I keeled over in sleep.

"Double fudge. You still like that, don't you?"

A little more awake now I mumbled, "Yes."

He smiled, obviously pleased. "I got it for you."

So that's where he went when he left me in the middle of getting dinner. After a brief internal debate I gave in to the urge to lean against him, sleepy. The TV faded into the background. "How come?"

"You didn't think only Kiyota could offer ice cream, did you?"

The blood rushed to my head in remembrance of a phrase recalled from an improper source. I sprung upright, sitting very rigidly.

"Oniisan himself said sweets were bad for the stamina," I stuttered and nearly choked on my own words when yet another improper entendre entered my polluted mind. My head was so hot I wondered it didn't explode.

He cast me a long sidelong look before turning his attention back to the TV and carrying on as if we were merely talking about the weather. "You're not an athlete. There's no need to worry about stamina." A pregnant pause, during which he cast me another glance, this time with a lifted eyebrow. "Is there?"

My legs propelled me off the couch before I could think about it. "I-I'm going to bed," I finally said, and without waiting for a reply stalked off. I had barely gotten to the foot of the stairs when he called,

"Join you in a minute!"

I dashed upstairs coaxing my mind out of the gutter. He was such a tease! And dear gods, he wasn't even trying.

~010101~

After the ice cream incident, I felt, for some reason, that Oniisan watched me more closely than he did before. I didn't get it: he knew all about my ex-boyfriends in Switzerland.

There was kind of no point in fussing over my virginity any more.

Of course, that was not to say that I'd already given it up to some hormone-charged fucker. But that's beside the point. The point was that his ubiquity – no complaints over that – made it a little difficult for Kiyota to make his moves. Not all the flirting in the world could make that boy spite his mentor in said mentor's face. But just when I was considering playing down coyness and thinking about taking charge, he took action.

Mornings I went to school with Oniisan, hanging out in the gym and basking under his surveillance until the first bell rang. He'd walk me to homeroom. Kiyota-kun had a different homeroom. Morning and afternoon breaks were free, but he had a certain aversion to traipsing into my class and declaring his love. Lunch break threw us all together at the cafeteria, where my activities were once again supervised. Nothing said for extra-curriculars.

This routine Kiyota apparently studied, and he found his chance after morning practise one day. While Oniisan was getting ready to leave he jogged up to us, high off oxygen and everything, asking how his play was. Oniisan said a thing or two about scoring and that ever-needed patience, while Kiyota's eyes roved over to mine. He grinned constantly. I cocked my head at him. He flicked his eyes downwards.

_The floor__?_ I made a slight shake of the head. _I don't understand._

"...By the way, how are your Chemistry grades?"

"Oh, right!' He smacked his head, and I saw the edge of a folded piece of paper peeking out from under his palm. Aah. "I forgot! Jin-san promised to go over a couple formulas before class. I have to go. Ja, Maki-san! Yulia-san!"

As he left he passed close to me, close enough for our hands to brush. His finger looped around mine. I turned my palm around, and found the piece of paper pressed onto it. Then he was off and running.

I crushed the note, slipped it into a pocket, and turned to see whether Oniisan had noticed. He was shouldering his bag.

"Mind stopping by the club room before I walk you to homeroom?"

I smiled; shook my head. "Ie."

I waited until Chem Lab to read the note. _**Morning break. Rooftop?**_ his large handwriting crowded the slip. I let the note disintegrate in the burner's flame. Over my group's bubbling beaker of acrid substance and his group mate's pigtails across the room, our eyes met. His began to look hurt. I summoned a blush. Instantly, he grinned back, and we both ducked to return to our work sheets.

~010101~

A blast of warm air accosted me when I opened the door to the rooftop. Clouds hung grey above the fence-less perimeter. Directly in front of me, seated in the middle of the space and muttering to himself, was Kiyota.

I let the door close audibly behind me. He twisted around; jumped up at the sight of me. Making no move to leave my post, I lowered my lashes. _Come hither._

"Kiyota-kun wanted to see me?"

He faltered. "I-I hope you weren't...busy. Yulia-san."

Shake head, sustain blush. Glance up, look down to study the right angles hewn into the concrete.

He sighed in relief and resorted to copying my scrutiny of the floor while simultaneously scuffing his shoe onto it. "For the longest time..." He stopped, shifted his weight to the other foot and began again. "I've liked you since you first came to Kainan."

I held his gaze as a passive show of encouragement.

He cleared his throat, and gathering courage plowed on, "It took me this long to, uh, come out and say it because Maki-san...didn't seem too hot on the idea. But –" an exaggerated breath – "I really, really like you, Yulia-san! Do you think you'd consider going out with me and maybe being a couple some day?" he rushed, all in one breath.

I remembered to count to ten, taking my sweet time observing the fire-engine red of his face mellow into its normal colour, and his breaths to slow. I counted to ten again afterwards, if only to let him pick up his defenses in anticipation of a rejection, before replying, "Yes. I think...I'd like that. But," I cut him off halfway towards a triumphant yell, "I'm not sure."

"What?" he nearly demanded, taking a half step forward. "How come?"

Bite lip. Bit down hard. Then release it slowly, deliberately, making a show of every second. "Because..." Forcing myself to keep from blinking, I succeeded in making tears well in my eyes. My voice dropped to a betrayed whisper, "...because I'd heard those same words before, time and again. And I always ended up hurt."

Thinking back, I see how much good soap operas had done me.

My eyes began to sting really, really badly. Then the blink came involuntarily, sending two flawless diamonds down my face.

Perfect.

He panicked, patting his pockets in search of the gentlemanly handkerchief. Finding none, he stumbled over to me, and as tenderly as shaking hands could manage, wiped those tears away.

"It'll be different this time."

I whimpered.

"I meant every last thing I said. I really like you, Yulia-san."

I emitted a grateful sound that was a cross between a laugh and a sob. And then we stood silently, half a foot apart, until the bell rang. I backed away. "I have class."

"You okay?"

"Um." A final swipe, a half-smile up. "Thank you."

He laughed awkwardly, one hand reaching up to scratch the back of his head. "Eh, it was nothing. So, uh..." clearing his throat, "you free this weekend? I don't know if you've already explored Kanagawa but I can show you around..."

Silly boy. I'd lived in Kanagawa until two years ago. Nothing's changed except Oniisan, who's gotten hotter since then. Oh, yes. And you cropped up, too.

"Sure. That'd be nice."

"Three o' clock?"

"Three. At the park near the public courts."

"Right."

Once final smile and I fled the scene. The echoing scream of "Yes!" that followed me as I hurried down the stairwell brought a satisfied smile to my face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Oniisan 4: Payback**

"You're going out with _whom_?" My question actually made Oniisan throw down his pen and push backwards from his desk to give me A Look.

"With Kiyota-kun," I replied mildly, coolly meeting his gaze as I sat cross-legged on his bed. "Oniisan's teammate? Self-proclaimed Golden Rookie –?"

"I know which Kiyota," he interrupted me, swivelling in his seat to face me fully. "I want to know _why the hell_ you would be interested in dating that wild monkey."

"Why not?" I counted with my most innocent face. It was gloriously amusing to see him worked up over something so minor as a date.

"Because –" A long pause. "Well, because I know him and I say he's an immature boy who's only out to be seen with today's hot item." A pointed look. "And seeing as you're the newest kid on the block, I'd say, as the entirety of Kainan would also say, that _you're_ today's hot item."

I reddened to the other side of heaven. If only he'd put more meaning into his words... But I had to focus on the task at hand: squeezing out every last drop of pseudo-jealousy from that lovely, habitually self-possessed face.

I crossed my arms. "That's a mean thing to say, considering he's your teammate and everything."

We had a staring match, which ended only when he sighed and shook his head. "Look, Yulia-chan, I don't want to argue. But please just listen to me when I tell you that Kiyota's not dating material now. Maybe in a few years," he added, mumbling under his breath.

"Why not?"

I was playing difficult and he knew it. He also knew that the best way to deal with it was to ignore me. Returning to whatever it was he was working on, he replied, "Kiyota's…Kiyota. He wants a girlfriend, sure, but he doesn't have time for one. His world does not revolve around you. It revolves around basketball." The harshness of his words hit me hard. His mouth twisted into a frown. "I don't want you wasting your time – or your feelings – over him."

Everything was a "what if". If he knew what I was up to, he wouldn't be telling me all this. If he knew my real intentions with Kiyota, he'd be running to the child's aid and warning him instead of me. I smiled a little on the inside, because no matter how difficult, everything I did, I did for his sake.

"Oniisan's wrong." He stopped writing again. That was the first time I openly and stubbornly defied him. If it was any consolation, I _was _sorry I had to. "Kiyota-kun's not like that at all," I went on, my lines sounding more like dialogues ripped out of soap operas, "It was really hard for him to confess to liking me, and it takes a lot of guts to ask a person out. He's _nice_."

The look he was giving me out of the corner of his eye almost became a nasty glare. "You are not going out with Kiyota. End of discussion."

"I _am_ going out with whomever I choose. You're not the boss of me. End of discussion!" We were both surprised by the curt acidity of my tone. I studied his expression, suddenly fearful, but all he did was raise an eyebrow before turning away with a grunt.

"Whatever. But don't tell me I didn't warn you." With that, he returned to his work. I backed out into the living room, where I parked myself on the couch, willing the blood to stop pounding in my head. His lights went off not long after that outburst, and his door clicked shut.

The night that followed after was a restless one. I couldn't stop thinking; couldn't will my racing thoughts to shut down. The big grandfather clock, out of place in its austere living room corner, ticked the seconds away.

Oniisan wasn't coming out. He was asleep. He fell asleep hating me.

I stared at the ceiling, sleepless, the staccato silence and ever counting grandfather clock keeping me company. Opening lines for tomorrow's apology ran through my head. I pressed both palms over my eyes, forcibly shutting myself in darkness. I tried to sleep.

It was three in the morning before I finally succeeded.

~010101~

I was the first person Oniisan ever told his dream to.

Way back when, basketball was something we both enjoyed. He played it, and I watched. It was nothing more than a simple game to while the time away with. In my young life, there was nothing more important than him. In turn, he swore to always protect me.

But he began to change in junior high. Trips to the public courts became more frequent. And more quiet. At first he stopped laughing when he played. Then he stopped smiling. Then he just forgot about me. I tried not to see it then – that the world around him was gradually melting away to be replaced by basketball.

One day he didn't come home until eleven in the evening. An aunt – our guardian then – gave him an earful when he showed up at the doorstep, uniform caked with dirt and sweat. Oniisan simply looked at her, and she fell silent, falling behind a step.

They didn't speak after she ordered him to bed.

Later that night when I crawled in to see him, I found him on the floor of his room, intently polishing his basketball. When I told him that auntie had been frantic when he went missing, he only grunted.

"Oniisan, where were you?"

Scrub, scrub, scrub.

"Why'd you go without telling? Yulia-chan…was very worried, too."

Scrub, scrub, scrub.

"What happened?"

Still, silence.

"Oniisan, didn't you say I could tell you anything? Shouldn't you also be able to tell me anything?"

"Shut up," he snapped, rag crushed in one hand. His chest heaved with strained breath.

"I want whatever Oniisan wants."

He looked up, staring at me but seeing past me. A derisive laugh barked out of him. "What are you talking about?"

"Yulia-chan doesn't want to see Oniisan so angry."

"You don't know what you're saying."

But I did. I saw everything. I heard the insults his teammate – team captain – threw at him earlier that day. I heard him snap back. I cringed at the resounding slap that followed, and the tart reply that he was in no position to talk back to his superiors.

"I saw everything," I confessed, and tried to give him a comforting hug. He shoved me away.

"I told you to shut up. Shut up and go away."

Ambition and pride had taken my place. From then on, all he wanted – all he needed – was to be the best.

And so it was that the remembrance of that jealousy and resentment shoved all thoughts of apology out of my head as I realized, on a bright, sunny, Saturday afternoon, that he had up and abandoned me once again without due notice. Stomping out of his room, I slammed back into mine to get ready for my date.

Kiyota, at least, appreciated me; at least liked me enough to swallow the lies I fed him. Oniisan, I thought, could piss himself off for as long as he damned pleased.

~010101~

If I were to give an honest – and I mean honest, completely without bias – evaluation of Kiyota, I'd say he was a passably good-looking boy; a little too loud, a lot too obnoxious, but sweet. He wasn't to die for, but the girls who giggled and blushed about him weren't completely unjustified, either.

At least, that's what I would have said if I were put into the shoes of any generic female basketball fan plucked off the street. But I was no such girl. I remembered that I was Maki Shinichi's girl.

So the sight of Kainan's Golden Rookie, standing with his back to me, hands thrust into his pockets, failed to spark off a pitter-patter of the heart. Instead, my mind involuntarily brought me back to last night, faithfully replaying everything down to the last, frustrating detail of that morning when he left me home alone.

The idea of hightailing it back and into obedience briefly passed me. But before I could command my body to move either forward or backward, Kiyota turned right around – he seemed to have been looking for me while I stared at the back of his head – and saw me.

The smile I scrambled to put on was a glorious mess. He didn't notice. Kiyota never noticed the little gestures, the subtle changes of tone that Oniisan always saw.

"So…ready to go?"

I nodded.

He beamed. "Good thing Maki-san let you come."

"Uh…yeah!" then I just stared and he just grinned back.

I lament such an awkward start. We were never meant to be, Kiyota, darling. Never.

Everything went downhill after that. Conversation was dull and stopped almost as soon as it started. Encounters were nothing more than the brief brush of our arms, which unfailingly sent my date into a fit of stuttering blushes. Looking back upon it, I suppose the poor boy wanted me to slip my hand through his, or some other mindless romantic notion. Too bad for him I was on an entirely different page.

At some point, though, he decided that his chances for amorous success rose several percentage points in the dark, and he suggested the movies. The thought of imprisonment in a vacuum of suspended disbelief grated against my better sense.

I told him it was a marvelous idea.

So while the world destroyed itself before my very eyes, I thought about how _I_ was destroying my own world by my stubborn idiocy. What merit was there in hiding and pretending everything was normal when that very same pretension brought me nowhere nearer to my goal? Oniisan would forever think my heart was bound to another. If he did not now know of my love for him, he might never find out with Kiyota forever glued to my heels.

Thus, in the face of the Pentagon crumbling into ashes and the streets of the world's greatest cities swallowing up their fleeing pedestrians, I made up my mind.

"Kiyota-kun." The back of his hand was cold, the skin stretched taut. He was gripping the armrest for dear life. "I have to go."

I witnessed his expression flicker from terrified to perplexed. "Now? But the movie's not over yet."

"Stay here and finish it. I can find my way out." I moved to stand. He grabbed my arm.

"If you're scared, we can go."

The sneer that followed refused to be suppressed. "_You're_ scared. _I'm_ leaving." And before he could stop me again, I hurried out the theatre. He scrambled behind me, heavy footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting. I didn't turn back, pushing determinedly forward until the dark gave way to the blinding lights of the lobby.

"Yulia-san!" I was jerked backwards and found myself looking up. Perhaps there was anger in that face, or perhaps hurt, or maybe even disappointment. I was too intent on returning home to really care.

"Let go," I hissed. He instantly dropped my arm. Shrugging irately, I turned to go.

"What did I say?" he demanded, wheezing slightly from the vehemence of it. "What did I _do_?"

"Nothing!" I snapped all too quickly. "I don't have to explain to you!"

But I did, actually. Have to explain to him, I mean. And I expected Kiyota to bug me, to assert his right to information. But he only stood by and let me drop him. I supposed, as I rushed back home in a frenzy, that some small sane part of me appreciated him for that.

~010101~

The closer to home I got, the more certain I was of everything finally falling into their normal places. The slate was going to be wiped clean…just in time for a new story to be written upon it.

I felt particularly light-hearted as I ran down our street and found the house lit. He was home. My heart swelled with impulsive joy. Tonight, I would let him know.

"Oniisan!" I yelled when a dark silhouette appeared at the crack of light. "Oniisan, I'm sorry!"

The door opened wider; the silhouette split into two. I ground to a halt at the foot of the porch steps. My stomach dropped to the ground. He was saying goodbye to a girl. She passed me with a polite little nod and a smile and went on her merry way, apparently very proud of herself.

"Okaeri," said the culprit, who was leaning at the doorframe, a cocky smirk matching his raised eyebrow.

"T-Tadaima." Anger and red-hot jealousy tore within me. Seeing him so nonchalant suddenly made me want to start the waterworks. I bit my lip.

"Oh, no, you've got no reason to cry," he interrupted me, holding the door open and beckoning me inside with a jerk of the head.

I glared back, swallowing the lump building in my throat. "Who is she?"

"My date."

"Yeah, right. What?" I challenged, "Did she walk you back?"

"She came over and we spent the afternoon at home, actually," came the easy reply.

"You're dating now."

"What's it to you?"

"You _don't_ have time for a girlfriend. You're too caught up with basketball."

To my utter surprise, he snorted a laugh. "Well, Yulia-chan's wrong. I'm not that kind of person at all. Besides, I can go out with anyone I choose to."

"Because I'm not the boss of you," I finished quietly; spitefully.

"That's right," he replied calmly. "You're only my little sister." There was a lull as he let that sink in. Then, "So are you coming in or do you want me to toss you a sleeping bag?"

I couldn't help it. I burst into tears.

He let the door close on me. He didn't spare a second glance; he didn't even hesitate. I stood outside for the longest time, unable to believe I was the one who had at last broken his patience. I waited for him to return, for another chance to ask for forgiveness. I waited until the inside of the house grew dark. Then I knelt, holding myself against the approaching cold of the night.

The gravel itched. It dug into my skin. It hurt.

~010101~

Wakefulness was rather like the start of getting drunk. I was able to process only figments of what went on, and understood even less. I remembered being unable to stop shaking from the cold, remembered being undressed carefully, remembered forgetting to feel abashed at being so exposed. Through dazed, heavy-lidded eyes, I watched Oniisan button me up in his pyjama top, watched as my hand, detached from the rest of my body, clutched at his shirt sleeve.

He looked up, surprised, half-way through his task.

"I'm sorry," I heard myself say, the reality of the situation still lost on me. "Gomen, Oniisan. It won't happen again. I'll be good forever. I'll –"

"You're fine the way you are."

"No!" I sobbed. "No. I shouldn't have…shouldn't have…"

"Some other time," he murmured soothingly, pushing me back down. "Go back to sleep. You need to rest." Smoothing my collar, he made to stand. He was leaving. He had left before. I did not know when he would return. _If _he would return at all.

Fear bubbled up inside me. I grabbed him; held on as tightly as I could. "Don't…don't leave me."

"I'm only going to get your medicine."

"No. Don't go."

"Yulia, I promise I won't take five minutes."

"No…" Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. My head spun. I threw myself at him. "I'll die if Oniisan goes away. I can't live without you. I love you, Oniisan. I love you."

He stilled, and after a long minute of silence shook his head and pried me off himself. "Go back to sleep." I looked up, hurt, but he wasn't about to be wheedled. "We'll talk again tomorrow."

With that, he muttered a final goodnight, stood, switched off the lights, and left me in the darkness of his room.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Chapters one and two remained as is, three was edited a little, but nothing too important. The most material alteration to the plot comes at the end of chapter four where Yulia, after screwing social conventions to hell, tells Maki the truth about her feelings. And so we have this chapter.**

**Thank you for putting up with me. **

**Oniisan 5: Temper**

Just because we did not talk about it did not mean the incident had been forgotten. Oniisan probably was trying to, but I could not keep myself from returning to my foiled declaration. His reaction put me in a decided limbo where I could not tell whether he brushed off the confession as the ravings of fevered delirium, or whether he took it seriously and was repulsed by it.

There was no way of knowing, either.

I tried to bring up the subject several times over the course of the weekend, but he always guessed what I was about to say and took every precaution to keep the taboo topic strictly taboo. We would be in the same room, going about our own business, and I would think of catching him off-guard to clear things up once and for all when he would suddenly mutter about needing something in the next room, all the while purposely avoiding my eyes. I got as far as beginning to string the question before he conveniently just remembered to unplug a something indiscernible in the next room.

He was being unbearable.

On the flip side, there was someone who could not seem to stop daydreaming about Saturday. Already having deleted the equivalent of a slap in the face delivered him, Kiyota hovered at my perimeters all Monday, now wanting to approach, now considerately waiting for a more opportune moment. It took him all day to get his act together – all day and an empty classroom. I had tarried, not really motivated to return home, and he swooped in.

"Hey," he went, "I wasn't able to thank you...for Saturday, so, um, thank you."

"Sure."

"Did you finish what you wanted to get done?"

"Sort of." He was such a sweet boy. Much, much too sweet. I began to feel bad about treating him so terribly.

"If you ever need any help you can count on me!"

"This isn't anything you want to get embroiled in, Kiyota-kun."

He laughed. Carelessly. Brazenly, like only ignorant people can. "Don't make it sound like you're committing a crime, Yulia-san! I'm sure whatever it is can't be too hard to fix."

I snapped my book bag closed. "I mean it. You don't have to stick around. I can fix this myself."

"I _want _to stick around."

"I _don't _want you sticking around," I snapped, irritation finally overtaking me. He blinked. I tore my eyes down, down at my sun-kissed desk, at the floor, out the window. Manners told me I had to apologize, but the words of contrition, unfelt, simply refused to be formed.

He laughed. Stammering. It lived and died abruptly. "Why not?" Hurt and disbelief seeped into his words, followed by a series of jerky, purpose-less actions. "Everything was fine..."

"Oniisan..." I blurted out. Trailed off. _Going out with you is betraying Oniisan._

"Doesn't like you going out?" he supplied.

_Don't pin the blame on him. _"No. No, no..."

"What about what _you_ want?" He was on a roll. No amount of vehement head-shaking could stop him. "Talk to him, tell him how you feel about being caged in all the time. I'll back you up. We can go together –"

"Shut up."

He stopped at once. Blood thrummed in my head; adrenaline rushed in my blood. My chest filled with the ever-present need to protect. "Don't you dare say anything bad about him."

"I only wanted to help..."

"I don't need your help!"

'Think about what you really want for a change!" His words left a ringing echo in the empty room. We locked gazes, his, stormy, and mine, clear with surprise.

What I really wanted... I faltered. He relaxed.

"What do you really want?"

"I want..." Only one thing came to mind. There was no need for deep thoughts. My desires had been ingrained in me forever. Things like these...answers like these...came easy.

"I want to make Oniisan happy."

His features contorted.

"That's all I'll ever want," I added, putting every ounce of conviction behind those words.

His hands flew up. Exasperation. For several minutes all he could do was open and close his mouth, looking around wildly, desperately, at a loss for words. Then a disbelieving bark. "You're kidding. You've got to be kidding."

I stared back.

"You're not really serious!" He made to grab me by the shoulders, stopped half-way, and let his hands drop. "You can't...you'll never be truly happy if you pin all your hopes to one person. Everyone knows Maki-san's great and all that, but you've got to get your own life!"

He didn't understand. I thought Kiyota's idolization made him see Oniisan as a god, too, but it seemed I was foolish to think he would be able to sympathize with me. I sighed. "Just leave me alone, Kiyota-kun. And forget we ever talked about this."

"I won't! Not when I know you're setting yourself up for deep shit!" He was cussing in front of a woman and not noticing. He wouldn't listen anymore. "You need help. I can't just stand by and watch you do this to yourself!"

"Stop it." Tears prickled behind my eyelids. I clapped both hands over my ears, trying to shut him out, but he went on and on about what I was doing wrong in my life. He sounded like the arguments I used to launch at myself before, resurfacing just when I had finally come to terms with myself...

"I care for you too much to let you do this!"

Flesh slapped against flesh. He reeled back. "Oniisan's done so much for me. I want him to be happy. You don't know half of it, so shut the fuck up!"

He gasped – audibly. I was half-panting, half-hiccupping from the effort of keeping the tears at bay. "So, yeah." Moisture trickled down my cheeks. I scrubbed them away. "That's why I don't want to go out with you."

Scraping together what little dignity I had left, I pushed past him and out the room. As soon as I was safely out of sight, I burst into tears.

~010101~

I couldn't return – walk – home in the sorry state I was in. Sticking around in the bathroom was not an option either, unless I wanted to be locked up for the night along with the rest of the building. The twilit shadows were kind to my blotched reflection. I took a deep breath, let it go, and gritted my teeth.

"Suck it up."

Which meant, unfortunately, huddling at the back of the building by the fire escape and wishing nobody would happen by. Sounds and voices from everywhere on campus floated up around me. I leaned against the sun-warmed walls. A hiccupping sob fought its way out. I sighed. Hiccupped again. My eyes stung.

Sucking it up would take a while.

~010101~

I was roused by a loud, persistent ringing. Automatically fumbling for the offensive object, I found it in my pocket, hit answer, and drowsily mumbled a "Hello?"

"Where are you?" The voice on the other end demanded.

"Oniisan?" I jerked up, suddenly wide-awake.

"Where are you?" he asked again, slight panic lacing his words. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I replied, combing dead leaves out of my hair. He still wanted me. The thought made me warm and fuzzy inside. "I'm still in school."

"What're you –" He stopped; said instead, "Don't be out too late," and the line went dead.

I stared long and hard at the phone in my hand, willing it to decode his words. The screen flickered once; blacked out. It flew into my book bag. I dusted myself off, gave a passing thought to how dark the sky had become and how quiet the grounds had grown. Then I started for home.

I let myself in, received a detached "Okaeri" from somewhere inside the house. Oniisan appeared as I was climbing the stairs to my room. He stood at the foot, watched for a minute, and barked "Yulia!" so suddenly that I instinctually whipped around.

"What!"

"You've been crying."

"Have not," I lied. I knew he knew. He didn't comment on it.

"I made –"

"No, thanks." Offering a half-hearted smile, I resumed my trek upstairs.

"You're not sick again, are you?" he called after me.

"I'm sulking!" I yelled back, and banged into my room. That was our last conversation of the day.

He didn't come to see me. I didn't want him, anyway. I was perfectly fine lolling on the bed, ignoring the pile of homework that still had to be done. It was extremely exciting to lie in the silence of the semi-darkness, listening for the sounds of his movements beyond my door. I recognized the casual shuffling around – totally unhurried – and deduced that he was uninterested in making up. That was absolutely all right. It was his fault to begin with.

Pretty soon the shuffling climbed up the stairs. I scrambled to my desk, fingered my hair, and buried my nose into a book. Waited. The shuffling moved down the hall. Warmer, warmer, hot. I picked up a pen, grabbed a couple pieces of paper. Sizzling. The shuffling paused outside my door. I had trouble breathing. Shuffling again. This time going down the hall. I still waited. His door opened, closed.

My book flew across my desk, hit the wall, and fell, face-first, onto the floor. I flung myself back to bed. Sleeping was a better option.

Two hours into trying, however, I realized that Kiyota's words would not stop swimming in my head. I could not sleep. But I had to sleep. Turning a weary eye to my desk, I dragged myself up and yanked the first drawer open. A collection of pens tripped over each other. Boring. The second drawer revealed a stack of notebooks unused since forever. Boring, boring. In the third I unearthed an immobile family of unrelated knick-knacks. They stared back, annoyed at having been disturbed in their sleep.

Boring, boring, boring.

I slumped over to the floor. The bottom drawer waited. With a non-committal huff, I yanked it open. And there, in plain view, nestled amongst a bed of boxed-up memorabilia, was a life-saving bottle of Nyquil. I had completely forgotten about it, but I grinned then, snatching it up without a second thought and traipsing jovially into the kitchen.

Only to run smack into Oniisan.

"It's past midnight." He stood by the coffee maker, arms crossed, looking cocky.

"I could say the same to you," I replied, passing him without a glance as I reached for a glass.

"What's that in your hand?"

"Cocaine."

"Seriously."

"Nyquil," I amended with just the tiniest bit of remorse.

His brows arched. "Nyquil?"

"The opposite of coffee."

"Sleeping pills." His arms uncrossed and he watched, keenly, as I shook a pill out. "Since when were you taking sleeping pills?"

"Since the tag team of stress and anxiety won the championships?"

"And you have a prescription for that?"

"Of course not." I swallowed the pesky thing before he could put up further protest.

"It's not good to rely on sleeping pills, you know."

"It's better than starting an after-midnight caffeine habit." Rinse glass, get back to bed –

He caught me. "What's the matter with you?"

I wrenched myself free. "Nothing save for the need to crawl back into bed before passing out on the kitchen floor?" Said floor was subjected to intense scrutiny while I tried not to sniffle. But the sniffle eventually came.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm not!" I would have lashed dramatically back, but for the sob that chose that moment to escape. I was reduced to a whimpering, snivelling mess.

"Don't cry."

"It's your fault. Oniisan hidoi."

"You're being silly again," he murmured, pulling me into an embrace. "Come on, stop crying."

I wriggled against his grasp. "You don't have to force yourself to touch me if I disgust you so much." But I liked it. I missed it. I missed _him_.

"I don't hate you." His voice rumbled over my head and I melted. Already I was beginning to believe him. "I was worried. You kept snapping. I didn't want you to turn into a Yorkie."

Despite myself, I laughed. "You're horrible, Oniisan." But I clutched him with all the strength I could muster. "Don't run away from me anymore. I only want to be with you. I want to make Oniisan happy because I really, really, love Oniisan..."

"Okay," he said at length. "Whatever you say, Yulia-chan."

Just before sleep completely took over I thought I felt him kiss the corner of my mouth. "Whatever you say," he had whispered, and then dreams took over and I crumpled in his arms.

In the end, he managed to evade, yet again, answering my confession.

Typical.


	6. Chapter 6

**Oniisan 6: Games**

Chasing after him was so much more interesting because he insisted on appearing uninterested. My confessions never did get an explicit reply. The first timid attempts at seduction did not faze him. Short skirts were passed without comment. Flashes of skin failed to elicit even the tiniest of interested glances. In our every encounter, he treated me strictly as his sister, even though I was practically crawling all over him. More and more, I shed away the purely innocent facade, replacing it with a purely innocent whorelet image instead.

Oniisan was the type who took life seriously, and the title "Captain" even more so. He could afford to be wheedled into leniency in his dealings with me, but to his subordinates, he was "Captain" and nothing else. Included in his list of duties was the very obvious mandate to keep the team intact. Oftentimes it meant dealing prodigal members with a disciplinary rap to the head, or turning a baleful warning glare to would be trouble-makers. Less often, it meant sorting out academic slacker's grades.

He brought his troop of potential scholastic failures home one day without prior notice. I had just had a bath and was walking around in a camisole and the obscenely short shorts I had lately taken to wearing in the furtherance of my cause when, with just a pre-emptory buzz, the front door opened. Like a good little wife I ran out to greet him, only to be met, instead, by a host of wide eyes and reddening faces.

"...Okaeri?"

And finally, finally, a tiny change flickered through his expression.

"Put a shirt on," he muttered, looking more self-conscious than even I was.

The grin came on spontaneously, a triumphant smile so wide I had to bite my tongue to contain it. When we were alone at home, I was nothing more to him than a strictly non-sexual, scantily-clad doll. But in the presence of other males – males who, for once, saw me as a definite member of the female sex – he was forced to admit the truth he refused to see.

"Be right back," I chirped, and skipped away to do his bidding.

So it was that I discovered that pushing a combination of his older-brother-instinct and his naturally-male-instinct activation buttons yielded optimal results. It brought out his protective side, but most importantly, it demanded his attention.

Take for instance, the coy approach with the ever-handy chemistry book. "Oniisan, do you think you can spare a minute or two? There's something I don't understand."

He looked up from the mock exam answers he was going over. Up until then, I had been unobtrusively "studying" in my room. He relented. "Okay. What's that about?"

"This...theory." I leaned across the table to push the open book towards him. The oversized t-shirt I stole from him would reveal just enough to distract.

He scanned the text. "This is very simple." Taking up a pen, he glanced at me to make sure I was paying attention – and just as I predicted, his eyes first landed exactly when I wanted them to.

"Yes, I'm listening."

Disconcerted, he looked down at the book, scanned the page again, and prepared to launch into an explanation...just as I shifted closer, supposedly to see the page better. He lost his train of thought once more. A short series of coughing ensued.

"Oniisan, are you okay?"

He shook his head, raked a hand through his hair and finally said, "You won't be able to read it properly upside-down. Come here; have a seat." Of course, he completely forgot that all seats in his near vicinity were occupied. So I pranced over, as instructed, and plopped right into his lap, also as instructed.

It took him a while to explain molecular behaviour.

And so it was that under the right circumstances and armed with the right knowledge, I abused the momentary power I knew I possessed, cajoling him with subtle hints, flirting like there was no tomorrow. After a series of successive appearances, I decided it was time to lie back and wait. An hour and a half of peace later, he voluntarily came to my room. I was lying with my head hanging off the edge of the bed, reciting a poem assigned to be memorized, and did not notice him enter until a wry voice said,

"It isn't true what they say in _Charlotte's Web_."

"But the blood running to your head really does feed brain cells." I pulled myself upright; patted down tousled hair.

He snorted. "Keep doing that and you'll give yourself a headache." The door closed behind him but he did not try to move closer to me. "I can see you were carrying on well without me."

I shrugged; put the literature book aside. "How much longer are you going to take?"

"It might still be a while," he said, and finally dared to approach once he was certain that the conversation had steered into a safe topic. He sat on the edge of my bed. "The make-up exams are tomorrow and there's still so much to cover. I don't know if we can finish tonight."

"What if...?"

"They'll be forced to pull out of the team."

"But the games are coming up!" I scrambled onto my knees in protest.

He smiled. When he smiled, it meant that he was going to turn an impossibility into a possibility. "Don't worry about it. The boys have worked too hard to be accepted into the team to let themselves be expelled on account of a failing mark."

"Oniisan's doing so much. I want to help too!"

"No."

"Demo –"

He looked uncompromising. One hand tightly gripped my arm, staying me. The things he didn't say came through loud and clear in that hard gaze. No, he did not like the kind of attention I was getting. He kept quiet about it because he was bound to that silly honour code of protecting innocence (that had never been there in the first place) – ignorance – but he hoped I was picking up on what he wanted to say.

I chose not to understand. "Yulia-chan wants to be useful, too. It's always Oniisan who shoulders all the trouble. Can't I help? Can't I be of use to you?"

He stood. "The best way you can help is to stay out of trouble yourself."

"How mean!"

He laughed, bending down to level with me. "Oniisan's going to be busy tonight, so you be a good girl and don't pull anything silly, all right?"

"I won't. Count on it." _Don't look at me as if I'm a child. _

"Great. I'll treat you to ice cream if you keep your end of the bargain."

"I don't want ice cream. Don't bribe me with that." _I am more than a child. _

He froze halfway out the door, and half-turned, brows raised. "Oh? Well, what do you want?"

I looked at him long and hard. He kept smiling, expression open and unguarded. I couldn't bear to trouble him about it again. "You'll still sleep with me tonight, right?"

His sigh was gentle, paired with a good-natured roll of the eyes. "For the nth time, there are no monsters under your bed."

"Onii –" I began to protest.

"But okay," he interrupted me. "I'll sleep with you if it makes you feel better."

_See through my acts. Understand my intentions. I want to be a woman in your eyes._

~010101~

For the most part of that night Kiyota and I had managed to mind our own businesses. I did not say a word to him, and he acknowledged my presence only for politeness' sake. We mutually steered clear of each other, he kept his curiosity and his wandering mind in check, and we got along as wonderfully as two soldiers in a cold war did.

Unfortunately, our stars weren't meant to ignore each other for long. At the end of a night spent impatiently waiting for my bedmate to show up, I once again took matters into my hands and trooped downstairs to collect him.

He was this time engaged in a mini-lecture on a subject discussed a month ago. I squeezed in beside him. Kiyota, who was one of the audience, spared me a look. I stared back, cool, uninterested. Reluctantly, he pulled his attention back to his textbook.

"Oniisan, it's late," I murmured when he paused for breath.

"Are you turning in?" He flipped a page.

"Not if you aren't." Both my arms found their way around his. "I'll wait."

Kiyota's interest oozed. Whenever I caught him looking I shot back the infamous bored look Oniisan used to intimidate his subordinates. It made the jaded almost-lover look away, but never wholly cured his sticky glances. Oniisan at last noticed the tension between us and said, "Let's get you to bed."

Kiyota's eyes widened. He looked like he was about to spew forth an expletive.

Oniisan and I rose as one. He took my hand. I intertwined my fingers through his, and let him lead us upstairs. Kiyota and I matched each other stare for stare the whole way. _See? We're good together. _

Once inside the confines of his room, Oniisan switched to brother mode. "There's something you're not telling me." He crossed his arms. I flopped onto his bed; grabbed a pillow.

"There are things you do not want to know."

"Things between my little sister and my teammate? Oh, I want to know every detail, believe me."

"It's nothing too out of the ordinary."

"But it's got something to do with the two of you going out."

I couldn't lie. "Sort of."

"And in the course of...social interaction..." he looked decidedly ruffled, "did anything...inappropriate...happen?"

He was interested. He was dying to know. I rolled my eyes, and before I could properly think my words through blurted out, "It's kind of too late to be asking after my virginity, you know."

He lapsed into silence. When the full import of what I had said hit me, I looked up, petrified. His hands were clenched, mouth pressed into a thin line. He was angrier than I had ever seen him before.

Holy shit.

"Don't say –" He cut himself off, and with much effort forced his hands open. Exhaling slowly, "It's none of my business. What you do, who you go out with...it's none of my business." Then his head jerked up, but he was looking past me. "Good night, Yulia."

"Oniisan wait!" I rushed after him, grabbing the back of his shirt. He shrugged me off. I held on. "Nothing happened! I swear...nothing. We only went to the movies, and then I came straight home. Tonight...was because of an argument we had in school. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't be mad anymore..."

He said nothing. We stood in terse silence for a minute before he deigned to say, "What were you arguing about?"

He wouldn't let me off easy. I tried to sound lighthearted. "Oh, this and...that. O-Oniisan was right. Kiyota-kun and I...we don't get along. We're like cats and dogs –" the bark of laughter stuck in my throat, "...fighting...all the time..."

"Did he do anything?"

"No!"

His eyes narrowed. "Anything else you're not telling me?"

After a pause, "...Nothing."

He nodded at last. "Good-night."

Stay with me, I wanted to say. But the door shut before I could make myself speak again.

~010101~

If I wasn't so in love with him I wouldn't be above calling him a prude, because that was what he was, in one word: conservative, scrupulous, _prudish_. He still refused to acknowledge my two acts of confession. To tell the truth, it seemed like nothing short of raping him would get my point across.

So to while the time away, I plotted, researched, and left a trail of evidence in my wake. Still no progress. He – rather, we – went on living like the whole damn world wasn't tilted precariously on the defective axis of my rising impatience. All I wanted was a physical hint of interest, or of outright disgust, whichever he preferred. I wanted a concrete answer. I wanted closure.

I had to force it out of him one way or another.

The idea struck one morning on our way to school. We passed an applicance store where a whole collection of televisions in the shop window played the exact same sleazy Western music video. I paused to watch, fascinated by the limber females gyrating in very tight, very short, very suggestive outfits. And I would have gone on numbly staring had Oniisan not noticed my sudden disappearance. He backtracked, found me agape, bent down, and in an eerie, breathy whisper asked what on earth I thought I was doing we were going to be late – no, _he_ was going to be late for morning training.

I jumped a mile, face hot, and laughed, "They're really pretty ne, all those Western singers?"

His gaze flickered towards the showcase televisions. He watched. It was a while before I noticed him alternating looks between the scantily-clad women on television, and one of the staff of an old-fashioned cafe further down the road. Finally, his eyes settled on the one minding her own business in a knee-length dress and a frilled apron.

I glared.

So busy was I sending baleful waves to the innocent sidewalk sweeper that I almost missed Oniisan's vague, "They are if you like half-naked performers," before walking right off. He strode down past the cafe and the sidewalk sweeper without the slightest hint of the ogle that I had expected. Bafflement, of course, was my natural reaction, but a few steps into trying to catch up to him, and just after passing the sweeper, who had very sweetly, wind faintly ballooning her skirts, whirled back into her workplace, the epiphany blossomed. With a rapidly expanding smirk and a dangerously thrumming excitement, I finally understood.

~010101~

My weapons of choice were a billowy dress, a ruffled apron especially hunted down for the occasion, and a tattered old children's book.

The last one must not be underestimated. Chock-full of nostalgia and of warm and fuzzy memories, that particular finding of silly syntax and an even sillier story first figured in the history of us as a poor, scorned thing, instantly labelled "childish" and "sissy" by the god himself when he first set his nine-year-old sights upon it.

"It's Yulia-chan's favourite," I had lisped. He shrugged, returned to his basketball.

The book was called upon to perform its greatest role the day our parents abandoned us in their quest for the greener pastures of free markets and capitalism. A regular monster, I had spent the rest of my lonely afternoon bemoaning my sad state and screaming my throat raw. The aunt tasked to watch us had long since retired to her room, a few paces away from a potential nervous breakdown herself.

Oniisan appeared suddenly, materializing at the mouth of the scene with a carefully blank expression. He took in my room and the mangled possessions littering it without a word, watching, waiting, until I cried myself exhausted and leaned against the bed, hiccupping, the last of the tears streaking down my red-blotched face.

Then he picked his way through the mess. He attempted to pick me up. I struggled, sulky, and shoved him away. Still without saying anything, he cleared a space beside me, rescued the book he hated so much from underneath a pile of ripped stuffed toys, and began to read. And just like that, he turned the shrew into the contritest of sinners, curled up in his lap, his old teddy's ear stuffed in her mouth.

A couple of pages before the ending, he yawned. The brat remembered to feel guilty.

"Don't read anymore, `Niisan."

He threw me a sceptical glance. "Don't you want to know how the whole thing's going to end?"

I had had that story read to me hundreds of times before, so it wasn't as if I didn't know happy ever after wouldn't happen.

"Ie. Oniisan's tired. We can finish it another time, right?"

He tousled my hair. "Right. But next time Yulia-chan wants a story read, don't cry. Just ask Oniisan. I'll always be here."

But the sad fact was that ever since that day, eight years ago, the book had never been touched again. It had simply been forgotten until I found it tucked away in a living room shelf amongst a scanty collection of photo albums.

So the goal was simple – creep up on him, redirect his attention. The strategy was a vaguely thought-out plan involving prancing in with the new weapons and going housewife-gone-wild with the book as a scapegoat.

Easy.

He was relaxed, reading something incomprehensible, and completely unaware. I swaggered into the living room, casting glances at him as I made a beeline for the old bookshelf in the corner. It was deemed proper to fiddle, to pretend to be interested until ample time had passed for it to be acceptable to say,

"Ne, Oniisan, remember this book?"

"What book?" he mumbled, turning a page.

"This old one." I handed it to him, making a show of bending over the back of the couch. He finally looked up, first at the book, then at me. A shiver of nervous anticipation fluttered through me.

"Ah, yes." He smirked; made to return to his age-appropriate material, "That."

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

Abandoning the backrest, I came around to slide onto the couch beside him. "We never finished reading it."

His eyebrows quirked up. "Are you trying to suggest...?"

"Read it to me." His book came down, his mouth opening to begin to reason with me, when I grabbed the opportunity to crawl right over, straddling his lap. "Please?"

His bemused gaze lingered. And then the dratted age-appropriate material came up again. "You can read it yourself. You're big enough."

"But it's different when Oniisan reads it," I whined, pressing myself closer in a bid for attention with his book. "It's kind of 'case unclosed' until you read it again, you know? Besides, you did promise to 'just ask' you."

My nervous system was on overdrive. Each and every heartbeat pumped wild against his calm one. The folds of my dress, draped everywhere, scrunched between us, were extensions of my skin. His jeans were rough against my bare thighs, his body hard underneath the cotton shirt.

I expected to be pushed away, his bewilderment shining through awkward smiles. He was going to ask what I thought I was doing, and I would have an answer, but it was one he was tired of hearing...

His hand came to rest on my tensed shoulder.

My breath hitched.

It lingered there, light, fluttering, moving down my back until he was absently fiddling with the ends of my hair. "Really, Yulia-chan, be reasonable –"

"But you said –"

He brandished his book. "I have to finish this. It's for school. You understand, don't you?"

I was going to be brushed off as a mere child again.

"If you're nice and quiet I'll let you stay where you are." And with nothing more said, he buried his nose back into his book, conveniently forgetting about me. I tried not to be resentful. Tried to show him that I did not harbour ill feelings over being tossed to the side so casually...by leaning forward to nuzzle a trail up his jaw.

That got him. "What," he said at last, "are you doing?"

"Showing you that I'm not mad about being ignored?" But I nipped him.

He laughed. "How thoughtful. A bit of affection on a rainy day never fails to cheer up a criminal, does it?"

Something struck me as odd about that. I pulled away.

"Change your mind?" A long, lazy sidelong glance.

I was beginning to reply when the pattering sounds of rain filtered through the cotton in my head. Rain. Rain...

"The laundry!" I gasped, scrabbling off his lap in a mad dash to beat the shower, seduction games completely forgotten.

"Have fun!"

Indeed. It began to pour when I let myself out into the backyard, the rain coming in long, jagged strokes. Wind whipped the sheets into my face. I raced around frantically trying to keep the laundry from falling out of my grasp. The sheets blew into my face and twisted around my arms, snagging me in a knot of winding linen.

A clap of thunder resounded overhead, followed by a flash of lightning. The rain grew impossible. I was drenched to the skin, my long skirt getting in the way, apron tangling with the sheets. I reached out to grab for the last, fluttering flag when my feet crossed over each other and, unable to even flail elegantly, I began my descent backwards.

Fully mummified, I flew off the ground, and in a mash of yelps and amused laughter, levitated a return to the house, where I was dumped back onto my feet. The kitchen doors shut, and Oniisan's laugh filled the air.

I tore the sheets off myself, sorely humiliated. He snickered down at me. Wet hair fell across his forehead and hung over merry eyes.

Then he snorted, and broke into renewed chortles. "I swear, you were nearly blown away!"

"Yes, funny."

He stopped; cleared his throat. "Anyway, it was a good thing I was there." Nodding at the sheets, "So let's get these into the dryer."

We trooped into the laundry room. He stripped off his shirt; dropped it into a pile. I watched him work from my perch on the counter. Only the dryer's hum filled the silence between us. Reaching up, he raked away his hair and leaned against the wall opposite me. We were so, so close.

"Oniisan..." I gulped. My head spun. "I...I can take it from here." My face burned so hot I had to stare at the hands folded on my lap. The dress stuck to my skin, outlining my legs. I felt immensely naked.

But then, as if to crown my latest inglorious moments, I sneezed. My head pounded with the heat.

One step. He closed the distance between us in one step to feel my face. I shivered. His frown deepened. "Get into dry clothes before you catch a cold."

"If I did would you read me that story?"

He froze. I slapped a hand over my mouth, biting my tongue, cursing it to the seven hells. I couldn't look at him.

"Tell me..." It was impossible to guess what he was thinking. "Why do you like that story so much?"

"Forget it," I muttered, squirming to get off. He was in the way. He didn't budge. Fingers sliding down my cheek, he tilted my chin up, forced me to meet his eyes. A sly smile played on his lips. He leaned down. The fluorescent light seemed so far behind him. I felt like a cornered rabbit.

"Tell me."

I couldn't answer. All coherent thought flew out of my head. The world narrowed to only his breath, his warmth, his hand on the wall behind me, and the disappearing distance between us.

_Tell me._

"Because I..." The wet skirt crumpled in my hand. "Oniisan I..."

_I want you to kiss me._

_I want you. _

_I want all of you._

_I want to give myself to you._

Lightning streaked across the sky.

He pulled away. I slumped against the cold tiles, dazed, my heart racing.

"Get changed," he said, quietly, confusedly. "I'll finish this."

**~010101~**

**A/N: YES! Three months after the promised date, chapter 6 is posted. It's been way too long. To all those who are still bearing with me, thank you very much. It's been pretty hectic so I don't have much time to write, even when I want to. Please do review. In times like these, I live for them. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Oniisan 7: Rip**

There were a million things I could have done instead: told him in all seriousness that my love for him was not child's play; closed that distance and kissed him; stripped right then and there... I could have finished the seduction game. But when he said "Get changed," my mind registered, "Not this." A funny emptiness suddenly vacuumed away my heart, and I fled in tears.

Cue an emotional retreat into the bedroom.

So I lay there, soaking the sheets, dampening the bed, as my rain-drenched clothes dried against my skin. I shivered, but there was no motivation to move. I lay on my side, arms tucked close to me, and the first thing in my line of vision was Yulia the bear and the thing going through my head was, How could you do this to me? And in another split second I realized that I was doing it all to myself and didn't know who to hate now because I most obviously was incapable of hating him, and hating oneself must run contrary to some natural law.

And so I lay there, exhausted and brain dead with agony.

The pounding of rain was muffled by the closed windows. I could faintly hear the dryer's hum bouncing around downstairs. Over that was the sound of footsteps. My pulse quickened. Adrenaline shot through my veins but I was too frozen to move.

The door opened.

My eyes were closed and, motionless, I was, to all appearances calm, perhaps even asleep.

He sat on the edge of my bed.

"Are you angry?"

"No."

"You'll catch cold if you stay in wet clothes."

"I know."

"Come on. Get up."

I cracked open an eye. He sat directly across me, face once again holding that tenderness I see only when he has done me wrong. Gingerly, I hauled myself upright, flinching when the soft material of a towel met my face. If I did away with that towel, his hand would be...

I shuddered. Violently.

"Yulia." The worry in his eyes closed up my throat. I wanted to tear up. He shifted closer, rubbing my hair dry. It was my last chance. I was determined to gamble everything on that last chance.

Conscious that he was watching me, I looked up; held his eyes. A tug, and the apron came off in a crumpled heap. I knew what I was going to do. I was fully conscious of every second of it, but no shame came upon me; no blush averted my eyes because I was doing it to show him just how much I–

He grasped my hands. The buttons were halfway undone. The towel slipped from my head to shroud around my shoulders. His fingers pressed against my trembling lips. His eyes were saying, "Don't."

Tears spilled over. But as I cried he leaned down, his head touching mine and his breath in my ear. The arm around my back was strong, almost possessive; the hand on my shoulder grasped it hard. "I'm your brother," he whispered, and I heard the tiredness in his voice.

"We're siblings."

"Yes." There was a hint of relief there.

Taking the hand over my mouth, I pressed it to the exposed skin of my chest. Tears slipped one after the other down my cheeks. "But I can't stop."

~010101~

It had kept raining since then. The pavements had a sheen of water over them – tiny eddies that rippled with each fall of the raindrops. I stared outside my classroom window and couldn't see all the way across to the seniors' building for the fog.

"Heeh, it's raining again..."

"Dont' you have an umbrella, Misa-chan...?"

"I forgot to bring it..."

"She's just waiting for Maki-senpai to offer her one!"

"Ssh! Yulia-san can hear you!"

I heard them loud and clear, and my heart clenched at the unfairness of it all. What made being blood related so special anyway? If anything, I loved Oniisan more than those girls did. I loved him most in the whole world. But that love was supposed to be dirty just because he was my brother?

A loud scrape of the chair in front of me brought Kiyota. "Yo," was all he said, already beginning to tilt his seat back, arms crossed behind his head.

I refused to acknowledge him.

"I won't judge you, you know."

"Neither do you have any right to."

He appraised me for a long minute, and then his chair fell back on all fours and he leaned far forward onto my desk. "Look, what's gotten you all riled up?"

"You getting into my business?"

"No, before that." Propping his chin on one palm, he followed my gaze. "It's impossible to see through that fog."

"The most important things are seen through the heart."

He grinned at me. "Damn. So you really were listening during Literature. I thought you were spaced out."

I smiled back, despite myself. "Ne, Kiyota, why are you so persistent?"

"Because I'm the Golden Rookie." He went back to staring out the window.

"Only in basketball."

"Naw. I'm the Golden Rookie in real life, too. I want to take care of you, Yulia-san."

I stared at the back of his mop of hair for the longest time after that comment. And just after I muttered, "I don't need it," he shot up straight and yelled, "Hey! The fog's clearing up!"

Nobody ever listens to me.

~010101~

It used to be that ballgames, no matter how high or low the stakes were, were something to be paid attention to. Ball games were Oniisan's turf, and ballgames made me think of him more than anything. It was that flagrant love that he had for it that I saw as a threat, but a threat I had to learn to embrace. It was a threat in whose path I threw myself wholeheartedly, if only to chance a peek at that part of his world in which I had no part.

But bit by bit, that exclusive world of his was opening up to me through somebody else. Kiyota roped outsiders into that world, and he liked pulling me in. And yet the more I was made to see of this world of Oniisan's, the less attention I paid to it. I began to realize that, even if I immersed myself wholly in basketball, it would not change a thing. Oniisan would continue to love it, and I would continue to hate it. For the secret was not in sitting at the spectator seats, watching the Kings mark out their territory. It was so much more than that. The secret to Oniisan's world was in his head, and that was something I could never penetrate.

And so I blindly watched, replaying Kiyota's pleas for me to attend that afternoon's practise as I noted the setting sun outside the large, second-floor window of the gym, and remembering his face, puppy-eyes and annoying and endearing at once.

Oniisan's last words since the weekend jumped into my head. _"We're siblings."_

The acute pain started me back to reality in time to note the new person who slipped into the empty spot beside me. Automatically, i inched away to give her more space inside the crowded gym, whereupon she glanced up, the ready thanks on her lips dying to the smile that followed.

"Ah! Shinichi-san's imouto!"

I blinked at her.

"We've met before." Sweet smile and a modest nod. "I'm Hikari."

The Hikari I remembered looked a little dazed the first time I saw her, the happy smile on her face matched by the glaze of excitement in her eyes. But the Hikari now was confident; grounded.

I only found enough composure to try to nod and to shut my slackening jaw.

"I don't think I have your name," she went on, and shifted up the thin stack of books and notes in her arms. From one of them hung a towel.

"Yulia." With some effort, I managed to drag my eyes back up to focus on her overly-bright ones. "Hikari-san is Oniisan's...?"

The giveaway blush suffused her face, but she did not bother to turn away. "Classmate," came the reply, her tone of voice and affected manner clearly implying that they were on the road towards something else. "We're lab partners."

"Oh." How convenient then, that they should sit together for one hour every day, five days a week, and sometimes have to cooperate with each other. The could be brushing of hands, embarrassed smiles, fake burns and gentlemanly solicitations, all of which she would undoubtedly take full advantage of –

Hikari suddenly clapped. "Shinichi-san scored!" I turned to look but caught only Kiyota, who was his teammate, high-fiving him. Silly boy. "Shinichi-san is so good I can't imagine him ever being a beginner!" she went on. "But Yulia-san must have seen it!"

I opened my mouth to reply when I understood that she did not expect me to make an answer that would tear down the godly image she built up of him. I would have told her that Oniisan worked very hard to be the kind of basketball player she so adored, but I was not sure I would have also told her that seeing him when he was weaker did not, does not, and will not, change my adoration for him.

Hikari continued to extol his virtues, gushing over academic excellence and sports excellence, and unrivalled manners and kindness and perfection that no doubt every girl in Kainan held of him. Reflected in that warped mirror, my visions of Oniisan became achingly clear, and in my eyes, he took on a form that I had never before wholly accepted as true. When I put on Hikari's rose-coloured glasses, I saw the black patches in my love brighten. Never more sure was I of the truth, and of the sincerity of my love than I was then.

He had shown me the bad and the ugly in his life. I have been privileged to be a witness to the inner him he did not show to his classmates, his teammates, his adoring fans. The closeted side of him was a secret only the two of us shared, a secret that filled me up with enough sense of power to interrupt Hikari mid-praise to say,

"What exactly do you want with Oniisan?"

Her eyes widened and lips began to move silently, though no sound came from them. Looking her straight in the eyes I said, "He's mine." But the shrill whistle ending the game drowned me out and I did not bother to repeat myself.

We stared at each other until the crowd began to break up and we noticed Oniisan coming towards us. His smile tightened when he saw me.

"Hikari-san," he nodded when he was close enough to be heard. He looked in my direction, hesitated, and finally said, "Yulia."

"Good game, Shinichi-san!" Hikari cut in, stepping towards him with a proffered towel. He laughed, thanked her, and apologized for making her wait.

"Oniisan..."

"Go on home ahead," he said at once, eyes hard and unapologetic. "Hikari-san and I have things to finish."

She threw me that resurrected smug smile and inched closer to him. Kiyota was bounding over. For the last time, I sought to capture Oniisan's averted gaze, failed, and at last nodded as I backed down to meet the second fiddle.

~010101~

He is the one who walks me home, who insists on keeping me company when it's dark and I'm alone, and who waits downstairs while I sit on the bed in Oniisan's shirt, popping sleeping pills so I won't have to face him while he's in the house. And when I traipse down the stairs, a little happier for the drugs running amuck in my system, he is the one who smiles and blushingly says he has made dinner.

I take those pills for plenty of reasons, amongst them so that I don't have to feel bad about telling him I'm too sleepy to eat, because it's true, and so that I won't have to remember the crestfallen look on that earnest face when I wake up the next morning.

I barrelled into him the minute I stepped off the stairs, and we half-stumble, half-dance into the living room where I collapsed lengthwise across the couch and pulled him towards me. Inches from my nose, he grinned, face cherry red with pleasure. And I...I am drunk with drowsiness and abandon. My hands tightened their hold upon his collar and I dragged him forward. Our lips crashed. He was frozen with shock; unmoving; and I released him after I felt like I have ravaged his mind enough.

"It was good wasn't it?" I demanded, before he can say anything.

He stammered. It came out in the affirmative.

"See?" I could not help sobbing, and shoved him away. "He would have had that had he not chosen that bitch over me!"

"That bitch?"

"Hikari," I hiccupped. "Oniisan wasn't even hers to begin with. Stealing him from me...is unfair. Unfair, stupid bitch."

"If it's any consolation, I'll always be here –"

Mad, raucous laughter ripped out of my throat. "You? You're no match for him." Kiyota must have flinched, but I did not notice. The drugs were clouding my head, and very soon, I was out.

**A/N: I was still supposed to edit this...it is my writer's obligation. But after months of stress and hyper-busy days, it is only now that I managed to write the latter part of this chapter (and also to finish it! XD). As an excuse for my laziness to edit what I wrote some days ago, I will say that I am very, very excited to post this chapter after too long a break. Please bear with me. Future chapters' quality will upgrade after my brain has sufficiently recovered. **

**Thank you for your understanding. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Starry: HIIIIIII! Thank you so much for the feedback. They're always very helpful and still very scary! :)) It has come to the point that after reading your reviews I can let out the breath I had been holding and relax! NOBODY scares me anymore. Not after you, anyway. XD I'm glad you're enjoying the story thus far. Admittedly, I afraid of the chapters looping in on the previous ones. Here's to hoping that doesn't happen! _ **

**toolazytologin: Good to hear from you! :) I do hope you recover your account soon! Thank you for the heads-up about Kiyota. I will be the first to say (embarrassedly) that I do need help with his character. It would be very useful if you could point out the things you find off about his character so that I could work on improving them. Domo! :3**

**Oniisan 8: Illusion**

A sort of divide began to come up between Oniisan and myself. In my mind he was associated with Hikari, and Kiyota became my constant companion. The more of Kiyota's voice I heard as I watched Hikari play my old role, the more detached from myself I began to feel. Without Oniisan to live for, my existence shank into a withdrawn silence; listless, pointless. His was no outright rejection, but the silences and the cold shoulder proved more effective than any. Nights continued to be spent in the company of those wondrous pills.

Kiyota, bless his soul, never once mentioned the kissing scene. For all my drama, he remained to be the one who took the time to talk to me between classes, who invited me to watch their ball games, who walked me home every single night, and who stayed up until the sleeping pills kicked in and killed the madness.

We sat together this way one night: himself occupying one corner of the couch and I, in my pyjamas, sprawled across the preferred piece of furniture, my head on his lap. The glass of water and bottle of magic stared at us from the coffee table. It was Kiyota's job to spirit them out of sight once I was knocked out.

"You know," he suddenly said, stretching his legs as he shifted to a more comfortable position, "this kinda makes me think we're, you know, boyfriend and girlfriend."

"You wish," I retorted, closing my eyes and wondering why sleep took later to come that night.

"Yes, I do wish," he replied. One stray hand petted the part of my hair splayed out over his lap. "Why can't we be boyfriend and girlfriend, Yulia-san?"

"Because I don't like you that way."

"But you like me in some other way! You like me!"

I sighed. "What is the point of this conversation again?"

"To dissect the reason why my constant display of love and adoration hasn't captured your heart."

"That's because you display it too much."

"I do?" I caught him tilting his head questioningly in a way I should have found adorable, but didn't. "I only show the love and adoration I feel. Nothing more, nothing less."

Replying necessitated shutting out his too-sincere face. "You and I both know we're bound to be stuck like this. We just can't move on."

"You can always try to like me...even though you only like the part that's nice to you and wants to take care of you."

I made him no answer. He was about to argue his case further when the door opened. "Kiyota...what are you doing?"

Like magic, my eyes popped open and I flew into an upright position. While Kiyota stammered about keeping me company, Oniisan sauntered in, brow creased, and picked up the bottle of pills.

"You're still on these?"

"She takes them every night to help her sleep because the stress of –"

A muttered "Quiet," was all it took for Kiyota, good intentions and everything, to fall silent at once. "Yes," I said to Oniisan, looking him straight in the eyes as I stood and held out my hand. "I'm still on them. Now more than ever. So can I please have them back?"

He hesitated. "You shouldn't be relying on these all the time. If you have a problem you can always come to me..." he met my gaze, faltered, and dropped the bottle onto my outstretched palm.

"Thank you." Throwing a "See you" to Kiyota over my shoulder, I climbed the stairs to my room, shut myself in, and with a long, weary sigh, lay down to wait for sleep.

Not a minute later, Oniisan invited himself in. He sat on the rocker beside my bed and softly said, "You can stay in my room. It's more comfortable than the couch you've been sleeping on for the last two weeks, and less scary than the dark here."

"I lied. I'm not really scared of the dark."

"I know."

My heart lightened a little at those words, but I could not bring myself to be happy about them. "I don't understand you, Oniisan."

He did not say anything but continued to sit there for several more minutes. Only when I began to drift off did he leave.

~010101~

That sleeping arrangement lasted approximately a week, accompanied by decreasing sightings of that adored one. The outcome was a week so bleak, so lonely, that the seventh day found me still wide awake an hour before midnight, sitting bolt upright before my desk, waiting to hear the front door unlock and his steps to grace the nocturnal silence. For the first time in a while, homework was finished conscientiously and on time, and was arranged in a neat stack to one side of the desk. The clock beside it hit 11:05.

Something downstairs clicked. Swallowing the coming yawn, I sat up straighter. Sure enough, the clicking sound repeated itself before giving away to the familiar footsteps I had not waited up for for what then seemed an eternity.

The footfalls moved up the stairs, came slowly past my room, and disappeared behind the moan of another door. I did not move an inch. Yulia the bear's paws were held very tightly between mine, and her glass eyes stared back at my nervous, but madly excited, stare.

"We'll give him an hour," I mouthed.

The hour passed unworthy of comment. When it seemed safe, I snuck out of my room, got the lights, and proceeded down the hall in darkness. Oniisan's room wasn't that far away; my fingertips touched his door frame just as my eyes adjusted to the dark.

I paused only to steel my resolve before putting a hand out. And the door swung inwards with the tiniest of creaks. I froze on the spot, staring into the dimness of his room, and hoping I wouldn't get caught. But he did not appear to have woken at all. So I crept inside, making a beeline for the bed where before it I knelt, leaning as close to him as I dared. He slept facing me, and that made me smile.

"Oniisan...knew I was going to come, didn't he?" the words carried no further than inches out of my mouth. "I came...because I really miss Oniisan. When I see Hikari I begin to wish I was here instead, so I could show you everything I feel for you without it having to be filthy. If I were Hikari, I wouldn't have to be afraid of ruining your reputation."

For such was the extent of those feelings that could be both love and desire, but were so much more than both. Such is the extent of the obsession I have carried since childhood; this adoration. Such are they that he should only know of them whilst he was asleep. These silly, ridiculous feelings that a sister must not hold for her brother. This most beautiful, most poetic of my sins.

"...I've never truly told Oniisan in all seriousness but...I love Oniisan." Gathering up reckless nerve, I inched closer to him and whispered, right in his ear, "That's right. I love you. I'm the one who loves you most; who loves you best."

I thought of stealing a kiss, but Kiyota's face suddenly invaded my thoughts and had me reeling back, startled. Oniisan was still sleeping, never knowing of my words, nor of my betrayal. Guilt spread hot in my chest. I stood in a rush and left the room; left him. His door shut audibly. It rang in my ears. With it taunted the little voice in my head,

"He isn't yours now."

~010101~

Hikari said, "Shinichi-san and I have been spending a lot of time together lately." Hikari's friends say, "Has anything happened yet?" And the girl who sits in the last row seat in the middle aisle behind Kiyota wondered, "The Maki siblings must interbreed."

That last one I caught when the last row middle aisle seat girl and her friends passed me on their way out of the locker rooms during gym one day. They were so engrossed they failed to notice the subject of their conversion right within earshot. But of course, that could have been nothing more than an auditory failure on my part. Neither would I have hesitated to brush it off as just that were it not for two male classmates who clapped Kiyota on the back while he was busy describing exactly how he would crush their opponents in the coming first round of Inter-Highs, staring him in the eyes and grinning, "Wouldn't it be too bad if the rumours really were true, hey, Nobunaga?"

"Shut up!" he spat back, swatting those hands away. "Of course they aren't true!" He was red in the face.

When the interruptions had passed I asked, "What rumors?"

"Nothing important," he said. "Don't think about them."

But I heard about those same rumours time and again, all from ever diversifying sources. While this strange development should have had me asking how and where and by whom the rumour began, I did not, and simply shut up, sat back, and took it. It'll go away in time, I thought. No need to be so defensive.

Perhaps the strangest thing was that during all the underground hype of this in-breeding thing, Oniisan slowly went back to being himself. Perhaps he hadn't heard the rumours that seemed to have taken hold of my classmates; or perhaps he had and wanted to tease the sources a little bit. At any rate, he smiled at me once when the classes got mixed up during an unannounced fire drill, and another time after practise when he and Hikari were leaving, he stopped to tell me not to stay out too late. It was a far cry from the sweet Oniisan I used to have, but during those times, I gladly lapped up any and all attention he could afford to spare.

By and by, it became easier to see him with Hikari. My opinion of her had not improved, and I still hadn't back down from the desire to see her dead body shut up in a cement drum, but at least, with Oniisan's kindness tempering the violence, the need to see her dead body in pieces mellowed somewhat.

The late nights Oniisan kept likewise dwindled to a couple of times a week at most after the night he caught Kiyota and myself together. Once he caught me in the kitchen with the bottle of pills and swooped in like nobody's business, snatching them and shutting them in a kitchen cabinet drawer. That was the night I fell asleep to the drone of the world news neither of us was listening to and the morning after when I found myself in my room, in my bed. He had just gone for his morning jog. I made breakfast. Everything began to show signs of falling back to normalcy.

I had seen researched classifying the stages of love. Up until recently, my love was the heart-pounding, head-spinning giddy kind. And then the whirlwind called Hikari came and mixed things up. The juvenile love I had, stretched taut and tested, defended itself by condensing into the slow, more logical type of love that spewed rainbows and heartaches but managed to keep the heartaches at a minimum. Juvenile love had become a selfless sort of idiotic self-sacrifice for the end goal of seeing the loved one happy. And so it was that, as long as Oniisan could be happy in Hikari, I was willing to bite my tongue and wait like a spurned concubine for the master to drop her bits of kindness when he saw fit. But the one who claimed to be the legal wife apparently had not yet been enlightened in the ways of calm loving. She aggressively courted him, cooing and complimenting while I sat at the sides and watched, my head in the clouds.

Oniisan continued to be kind.

"Inter-Highs has started but Shinichi-san has been putting less time in practise lately," she commented one day. She had made a beeline for the empty spot beside me before that day's gym session began, but did not acknowledge my presence until that comment.

"Why, hello, Hikari-san," I replied coolly.

She shot me a peripheral glare. "He should be spending more time training. Kainan has a reputation to maintain."

"You should tell that to him then. I never meddle in Oniisan's affairs, least of them basketball."

"Oh, really?" she said in an icy tone unfit for use before the sibling of the man one was after, unless maybe that sibling was a rival, "I thought you might have had something to do with it, seeing as how his perpetual reason for leaving early is to 'get back to his little sister, who's alone at home'."

She got me. I turned to her, completely caught off guard. "Oniisan said that?"

"He did. In fact, he says it every single night he feels like bailing out."

Gosh, Oniisan must have been 'bailing out' often enough to rile up his biggest worshipper. That got me thinking.

"When Oniisan stays late, does Hikari-san wait for him?"

"Of course," she snapped condescendingly. "I have to stay to support him."

"That's very nice of you, Hikari-san. Thank you for helping Oniisan. I hope you haven't tired of seeing him all the time."

Her eyes flickered down to her shoes as heat – whether from embarrassment of from frustration I do not know – crept up her face. "We only see each other when he's in practise because...because of Inter-Highs. He's been really busy so..."

So all those by-pair lab work had to get done in the lab. Jackpot. The little man thief was losing her place, and that was making her jealous. Jealous and insecure. The best part of the whole thing was that she was jealous and insecure because of _me_!

The feeling of power that came with that knowledge, unfortunately, did not last the afternoon. When practise ended and the boys broke up for the day, Oniisan at once came over to where Hikari and I stood. Hikari, as usual, went out to greet him, but Oniisan did not look nearly as happy to see her as he used to be. Excusing himself, he sidestepped her to come to me exactly as Kiyota came hurtling over.

"Shall we go?" They said in unison. Kiyota looked awkward and Oniisan, like he was in a hurry. Hikari came to stand behind him. Our eyes met. Hers narrowed.

"It's been a while since we last went home together," Oniisan began. I was tempted to jump right up and leave with him when Kiyota said, "We made plans to go to the sea side today, remember?"

We did. And when he asked, I acceded to humouring the poor boy who said he had been so stressed out with Inter-Highs that he needed to take a break. Besides, I owed him one for –

Fuck. Every little bit of memory, however distantly related to Kiyota, inevitably boiled down to that night I kissed him. That night of my betrayal. That scene came up then. I couldn't look at Oniisan. I _had _kissed Kiyota. I _fucking_ kissed Kiyota.

"I...I did promise..."

His reply was a long, stunned silence. Perhaps he expected me to still drop everything at his mere hint; perhaps I would have done so were I still his. But I was even filthier than I was before. Oniisan couldn't possibly love someone like that. He didn't deserve someone – _something – _like that.

"Gomen," I said as I stood. Hikari had instantly latched onto him the moment it was clear I wouldn't be staking out any territorial rights. "I won't...stay out too late."

**A/N: I promised myself that I'd upload this once I'm sure I'm going to graduate. So here it is. I have officially joined the ranks of the unemployed!**

**This was created...on a creative spurt sometime before finals. Lol. I hope it's not too terrible. I actually like the way Kiyota's turning out. ._. He's gutsier, and maybe a bit more mature underneath that childish exterior. As for Yulia and Maki...well, the relationship feels so much like a tug-of-war that I don't want to delve into that yet. XD I will cross that bridge when I get there. **

**Thank you to those still reading (wink to Starry). Please do send in a line or two. Critiques will be devoured with all enthusiasm. **

**Ciao~**


	9. Chapter 9

**Oniisan 9: Crash**

Kiyota and I only spoke again when we got to the beach. The sun was setting but the floodlights were on. Beyond the sea wall, the lights from the Ryonan High gym spilled out of their glass windows. The distant shouts of their captain faded in the coming warmth of summer.

"They're still training," I said, jogging to keep up with Kiyota, who had dropped his bag by one of the light posts and kicked off his shoes. "It's strange for Kainan to have finished so early."

Kiyota snorted. "No matter how hard they train, we'll beat then any day."

I frowned but copied him, stripping off my blazer and rolling up the sleeves of my shirt. "What I meant...was that it's strange for Oniisan to be so complacent about Inter-Highs."

"He isn't." Kiyota stared out at the retreating sea, hands on his hips. "You don't see it, but Maki-san's been making everyone work real hard." Then he grinned at me. "We deserve a break every now and then."

"That's why we're here?" Mimicking his stance, I shot him a quizzical look.

He grinned back. "Nah. We're here because there's something I've been wanting to do and just needed to drag someone into it."

"Cheat," I muttered, but followed him towards the damp sands anyway. "So why are we here? Serious answers only."

"We'll be shell hunting."

"In the dark? Are you insane?"

"Over you, yes," he replied cheekily, to which he received rolled eyes. "Besides, it's not completely dark because of the floodlights. And we're using flashlights. It makes looking for those purple shells more romantic."

"Purple shells can only be found at the bottom of the ocean," I said, flashing the torch across the sand in my immediate vicinity. "If you wanted purple so badly you could just buy dye, you know?"

But Kiyota was searching on his hands and knees. He looked like a child, scooping up handfuls of wet sand and moulding them into lumps. If he wasn't doing that he was digging holes like crazy.

"Are you searching or playing?"

"Both," he said, grinning up at me. "You've got to have fun looking for those purple shells, or they won't mean anything."

"Like I said, they're only found at the bottom of the ocean –"

"Not that kind of purple shell." Dropping the sand lump, he put his hands together and flapped them open and closed. "We're looking for these –" flap, flap, "– types of shells. But they've got to be purple and have to match."

"You're setting yourself up for failure."

"But I still have to do my best."

"They're just _shells_, Kiyota. You know? Empty houses of dead mollusks? What are you trying so hard for?"

"Purple shells mean everlasting love, Yulia-san. If you find a pair, it means you and the person you love the most will be together forever."

"That's just superstition." But I dropped down to help him search, anyway. We went as far as the floodlights could reach, wading in the ankle-deep water and getting sufficiently sprayed by the tiny waves, all to no avail. Those purple shells refused to be found.

"Maybe they don't exist," I mused as we walked back inland. My sleeves were wet and damp sand crusted on my legs. Kiyota decided to call it a night only after the Ryonan gym lights went off. Our flashlights swung across the beach.

"Sure they do. They're just really hard to –" Then he dove down, yanked something off the sand, and hopped up with the biggest grin I'd ever seen.

"Look!" He shoved the shell at me. "Purple!"

"It's broken." One half of the bivalve had a gaping hole in it.

"It's still purple!" Without warning he grabbed my hands. The broken half pressed against my skin, cool and smooth and sharp and gritty. "Thank you for coming to help. You really are a lucky charm, Yulia-san!"

He was giddy all the way back home, so happy I couldn't be annoyed over his incessant chattering. It felt right to have done a good deed. When we parted at the driveway I had internalized what he told me about purple shells and looking for them. All it took was a bit of patience.

The first thing I heard when I let myself in was "Okaeri." Oniisan was standing at the hall, apparently waiting for me. I scrambled to check the time.

"Ten-thirty," he supplied.

I told him I wouldn't stay out too late... "Sorry. We got...carried away."

Something murderous flashed in his eyes, but went away just as quickly as it appeared. "Your uniform's wet."

I fidgeted. It had been so long since we last had a normal conversation that talking about mundane things felt _really_ weird. "Ah...we were...shell hunting."

"In the dark?"

What did I tell Kiyota about being insane? "He said...we...we _were_ looking for purple shells and we _did_ have flashlights..."

"Purple shells don't exist," he chuckled.

"Sure they do. Kiyota found a broken one on the way back. I told him it wasn't the same but he said it still meant 'everlasting love' or something and that the person who finds a pair gets to be with the person he or she loves the most –" I stopped. I had been blabbering. Oniisan looked mildly amused. A tell-tale blush spread to the roots of my hair. Muttering something about changing and doing homework, I ducked and hightailed it out of there.

He was still laughing.

~010101~

Near the end of the summer term we went to school together again. We didn't talk much on the way there but at the first crossing, while waiting for the pedestrian light to turn green, he took my hand. I looked up at him. He remained expressionlessly staring straight ahead. In those last twelve seconds it took for the light to change, I dared to lean against him. He intertwined his fingers around mine and squeezed.

We went like that all the way to school, where he paused a minute to wonder whether or not to ask if I wanted to watch morning training. I tugged him towards the gym before he could open his mouth.

Not one word passed between us – not when he was unlocking the heavy doors to the court; not when we stood in the stillness of those high, high ceilings and gleaming wood, complete with specks of dust floating in the morning sunlight; and not even when his warm-ups were the only sounds that echoed in the emptiness. Sometimes I felt that I had become invisible, that his world had once again become that of him and his court. Then he would pause after making yet another basket and, very surreptitiously, flick his eyes over to where I sat, as if to ascertain that I was still watching.

So it was that on that one last miraculous morning, I began to believe that Oniisan himself was pulling me into his secret world. I let myself believe that at last, I no longer had to be the one left out.

The magic ended with the first morning greetings and yawning entrances into the locker rooms. Oniisan wrapped up solo practise to sit with me. I passed him a towel. Heat emanated from his skin. He nodded his thanks, reached out. Fingers combed through my hair. He leaned closer as if to whisper something, but stopped at the last minute, his attention stolen by something he saw over my shoulder. The idyllic caress became a matter-of-fact pat on the head and a curt thanks. When the echo of the locker rooms had returned full-force, he had gone to Hikari.

~010101~

At a park right beside the sea and very near Ryonan, there are several public courts. Basketball enthusiasts would gather there on the weekends, sometimes to watch, and sometimes to join in on an impromptu match. The regulars of Kanagawa's most known high school basketball teams might show up, and oftentimes, might be persuaded to play a friendly game or two.

On Saturdays when he had nothing better to do, Oniisan frequented those courts. I used to tag along. Recently, I'd go to watch him without his knowledge, like some sick stalker. But as Inter-Highs caught up to younger fans, more and more spectators jammed the courts so that I blended in with the rest of them and was rendered perfectly invisible.

Except, apparently, to Hikari.

"You're here again," I sighed when she cropped up beside me.

"So are you."

"You're _always_ around." It was almost a whine.

The arrogant sneer that had become a permanent fixture on her face once again reared its ugly head. "People like Shinichi have to be watched very carefully if one intends to keep them." She dragged her perfect pout up into a smirk. "I heard you perfectly that one time, Yulia. What was that again? 'Oniisan's mine'?"

"He is too," I replied, feeling more and more like a child.

She rolled her eyes. "I beg to differ. That's why I'm hell-bent on eradicating that tasteless little rumour floating around school. You can't believe how sticky tales of incest are when they've glued themselves to one's name."

I flinched at her choice of word. Personally, I had never called it 'incest'. The word left a bad taste in one's mouth, carrying with it all its implications of filth and sin when love – the very real root of it – was never dirty. But I couldn't even formulate a smart retort.

"You don't have to thank me. After all, what I'm doing is mutually beneficial. Just make sure you do your part and not waste my effort." She was going to make me look like a fool again, but I wasn't going to walk away anymore. Not then, not ever again.

"I hate you," I muttered. "I wish you'd die in the most painful, most horrible way and leave me alone. Leave _us_ alone. Oniisan and I were fine until you entered the scene –"

"Shinichi was the first to use me," she interrupted, bitterness lacing her tone. "I'm just repaying the favour."

"Oniisan would never –"

"There's a lot you don't know, Imouto-chan, so I'm telling you this now: despite Shinichi not being all he's hyped up to be, I want him, I'm keeping him, and I've got a better chance at pulling that off than you do."

"Just curl up and die, Hikari."

She smiled a sweet smile and put a hand on my shoulder. "When that happens, I'll take you with me."

~010101~

The day before semi-finals and a week after my conversation with Hikari – a whole week of the icy shoulder from Oniisan just as I thought things were beginning to mend – I decided to take one last shot. He was packing his gym bag for the following day's game when I appeared at the doorway to his room and simply said,

"I love you." He froze. I went on, "It's not the innocent 'I love you' because I've never loved Oniisan like that. I love you the way a woman a loves a man, but not necessarily the way she does before they fuck. I love you means I'd do anything you want me to. I love you means I love you. Even though I went and kissed Kiyota and am an undeserving scumbag, in this world, I love you the most and I love you best."

It took him a while to remember what he was doing before my speech, and even longer to go back to doing it, though not once did he look my way. When he spoke at last it was to stiffly say, "Then I hope it also means you know my answer."

"You don't love me?"

An exasperated sigh. "You must have better things to do with your time. Quit hounding me. I have to prepare for semi-finals tomorrow."

"You want me to leave you alone."

"Yes."

"For good?"

"Yes." He was becoming irritated.

"Okay. But before I leave you alone for good I'd like to ask a question."

"Make it quick."

It was already at the tip of my tongue. "Before Hikari came into the picture who was more important to you: me or basketball?"

"What kind of question –"

Never once did he pause to look at me. The whole time, while we talked, he only looked at his gym bag, the following day's schedule, and the things that had yet to be packed.

"Never mind. I've bothered Oniisan enough. Good luck tomorrow."

~010101~

When I got to the beach, the floodlights were on but the Ryonan gym lights were out. The long stretch of sand had widened, the sea level receding in the night's low tide. I ran towards the water, black, blind, and noisy as it crashed upon itself over and over. Deeper and deeper I waded until the water wet the hem of my shorts.

Recalling one of those old folktales, I briefly wondered if the water spirit would turn me into a mermaid if I threw myself into the ocean. Surely they could need another citizen down there? I tried to peer into the water but saw nothing. I was on the verge of stirring my hands in the liquid darkness when the pocket of my shorts vibrated.

Kiyota.

"Yo!"

"Hey." I wiggled a leg, tangled seaweed around it, shook that off, and felt something cold and hyperactive slide against it. That changed my mind completely. If I were going to throw myself into the water, I was going to become fish food, not a fish lady.

"Where are you? It sounds kinda funny out there."

"I'm...ah, looking for purple shells."

"It's almost _midnight_ Yulia-san."

"It's okay. The floodlights are still on, so no problem." Once I had gotten out of the water, I chose a spot of dry sand and sat down.

"Do you need help? I could –"

"I'm good. Besides, you have a game tomorrow."

"You sound kind of down."

"Nah. You're over-imagining things."

"Isn't Maki-san looking for you yet?"

Surprisingly, what used to be a stab of pain diffused into peace. "I think he's happy to have me out of his hair for once. Oniisan's busy preparing for semi-finals."

"Are you going to watch?"

"Maybe. Dunno."

"You should! I'll swing by for you before I go."

"I'll think about it then." A pause. "Kiyota, we should hang up. You need your rest."

"Are you concerned about me?"

I couldn't help smiling. "Savour it while it lasts." Then I cut us off. I spent the night on the beach, feeling the water dry off my legs, my damp shorts. It was cold, but not much. If I rubbed my arms real quick I'd get warm again.

I sat there till sunrise.

**~010101~**


	10. Chapter 10

**Oniisan 10: Surrender**

The night was spent in such a thoughtful trance that by the time it was bright enough again, my brilliant plan had carried me downtown, to the outskirts of that territory street punks and delinquent drop-outs like to mark as their own. I wasn't a frequenter of those places, but I found myself one such resident slumped on the street beside a parked motorcycle surrounded by his group of friends. A cigarette dangled between his fingers. The pack it came from sat on the motorcycle's leather seat.

"Could you do me a favour?" I asked, remembering not to smile.

The punk and his friends exchanged glances. They looked me up and down. "Whaddaya want done?" the brawniest one asked. He put out his cigarette on the safety railings next to the road.

"I need a can of beer."

That elicited a second round of looks, and then uproarious laughter. "Beer? I thought you wanted someone's bones broken, or maybe even a roll of weed. But _beer_?"

I shrugged. "Would you prefer margarita?"

The one sitting on the roadside finally stood. "Look, you're obviously not from here. Go run back to your daddy before we decide to have a little fun with you."

"My daddy's not around. Could you get me brandy instead?"

He waved a dismissive hand. "Go back to your mommy then, or to your big brother or whatever. Stop wasting our time."

"My mommy's not around either and Oniisan wants me to leave him alone. So how about you get me vodka and I'll pay you and your pals with a couple of bottles?"

His eyes narrowed. "Why don't you go get it yourself?"

"I'm underage. They won't sell it to me."

He sized me up a second time and then stuck his hand out. I managed to dig up several waterlogged bills. He eyed them once, and then stuck them into his pocket. "Wait here. I won't be long."

I spent an awkward fifteen minutes standing around while his friends did their best to ignore me. When my man returned he had with him three bottles. He handed me one in a paper bag.

"Thank you. You can keep the change."

He scowled. "I ain't gonna be responsible for anything that happens to you."

My smile refused to be contained then. "Oh, no. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, we never met and this transaction never happened. Good day."

And so, feeling very hopeful and very cheerful, I began my trek back home.

Oniisan had left for the station when I arrived. I set the vodka down on the kitchen counter and, letting curiosity overwhelm me, unscrewed the cap and took a whiff. The acrid scent of alcohol burned its way into my lungs.

Perfect.

I fulfilled my plans methodically, savouring each moment. When I was done taking a long, lazy bath, I dressed carefully and even took the time to blow dry my hair. After all, it was the minute details that went into the creation of drama.

The inspiration I had in mind was Sleeping Beauty – that part where the princess lay carefully posed on her bed of thorns and roses. I did not have the luxury of one such bed, but I did have a place where I could easily be found.

Pouring myself a generous amount of vodka, I retrieved the sleeping pills Oniisan had ineffectively hidden, and brought them to the living room. Then I wondered if I, too, should pose, or if I should just let myself drift off, to favour the natural look. After a short debate, I decided to look posed. It was refined, and nothing was more in-your-face than a pretty corpse in a dignified position.

I glanced at the clock. Eleven-fifty. Time to begin if I wanted to be at least half-dead by the time Kiyota arrived to pick me up at twelve. The poor boy would raise a commotion, which would inevitably bring Oniisan back. But all he would go home to would be the dead body of a broken-hearted sister.

The thought had me giddy with excitement.

I shook out a handful of pills, downing each set of three with a long swig of vodka. The alcohol burned my throat raw and made my eyes water, but the way it warmed my chest was the same as when I got a little too overexcited about Oniisan.

Those days were over.

When the pills were gone I had downed half a bottle and was getting very, very dizzy very fast. I wanted to be sick, but before I could even make myself fully feel the nausea, my legs gave and the sick feeling was replaced by one of intense pain and suffocation. Instinct had me coughing to breathe, but my lungs closed up very quickly and I found myself panicking, and crying over the panic. I began to hear nothing but a great rushing, as if my soul was being suctioned off my body. Through sheer will power I dragged myself to the couch and collapsed atop the blanket folded up in one corner. Before I passed out I had a flashback of the last time Oniisan and I curled up under it. We were watching the world news.

No. He was watching the world news and I was going to sleep.

No. He was pretending to watch the world news while he waited for me to fall asleep.

No. We weren't paying attention to the world news. We were just sitting together, trying to remember what life was like before I messed it up. We were acting a part that used to be real. That felt real. That could be real again.

My eyes stung. Tears leaked onto the blanket. That wasn't dignified. I looked disgusting. I was going to be such a gross corpse when they found me. I shouldn't have been dying in the first place. I should have tried to die at all.

I tried not to think that it was too late.

The blanket...still smelled like his soap.

~010101~

Summer, two centuries ago. Passing by the public courts.

"Is it really okay for Oniisan to be skipping practise? I thought your school had a game next week."

A grin, and he passes me an ice cream cone. "Sure it's okay."

"Your coach will be mad."

A shrug. "You're leaving for Switzerland in two days. You come first."

~010101~

Fall, not too long ago, on the ride back home from the airport.

"I thought Oniisan had training today?"

The same old grin. "Don't tell."

"Inter-Highs are coming up again, right?"

"Yep. But you came home today. I wanted to see you."

~010101~

"...His perpetual reason for leaving early is 'to get back to the little sister home alone'."

"Really? Oniisan said that?"

"Rolled eyes, and a toss of that red head. "Damn straight. He says it every single night he wants to bail out early."

~010101~

A most recent one, or maybe a dream. It was only seven in the evening. Dinner had been shoved in the microwave and I was going down the stairs, having just changed out of my uniform.

"Tadaima." Oniisan grinned up at me from the bottom step.

"You're home early!"

Hitching his bag higher up one shoulder, he reached around me and knotted the apron. "I haven't seen you much lately."

~010101~

Oh, dear god. I was such an idiot.

~010101~

"Afterlife...sucks." At least, that was what I tried to say. What came out was a strange sound that shouldn't come from any human throat.

A white-clad figure peered down at me, his scrubs belying the smooth muscles underneath. "You up?"

"Are you Saint Peter?" The nuns once taught us that Saint Peter held the keys to Heaven. "Y' look young. Lemme in."

Saint Peter stuck a hand out. It disappeared over my head. A minute later, another white-clad figure was hovering at my side. "Oh, you're awake."

Mother Mary? I squinted. Mother Mary didn't carry syringes around.

"You really shouldn't have tried that, sweetheart. Lucky thing your friend found you in time. Here, I'll give you a little shot. It'll make you feel better; help you go to sleep. Don't try anything funny. Don't even _think_ of anything funny. This nice young man here is on suicide watch. You be kind to him."

No, no, no, no. I squeezed my eyes shut. This was all wrong. Heaven wasn't supposed to suck. Mother Mary didn't wave needles around giving people shots, and Saint Peter most definitely wasn't supposed to be on suicide watch...right?

~010101~

I tried to make a fist, but an outside force was keeping my hand straight. For a minute I considered cursing the afterlife for paralysing me, and then I heard a voice from somewhere above me saying, "No, no, don't. You'll hurt yourself," over and over again.

I opened my eyes. This time I saw a white-coated man with greying hair and a gentle-faced lady at his side. Finally, the right side of Heaven.

"Saint Peter," I garbled, "Mother Mary. The right ones."

Saint Peter chuckled, patted my head. He turned to a colourful boy beside him. "It's just the meds. She'll be back to normal once it wears off." Looking back down at me, "Well, Yulia-san, you seem okay for the most part. But you're still on suicide watch so I've got my eyes on you. Behave."

Oh. I was still on Heaven's probationary list.

When Saint Peter and Mother Mary had gone, the colourful boy spoke up. "How are you doing?" he said, something cupped in his hands.

"Who're you?" I drawled back.

"Kiyota."

"You're not supposed to be dead..."

"You remember me!"

"I'unno."

He sighed. "Anyway, I came to give you those purple shells we found. The broken half was the wrong half. I found the matching one when I went back. I thought...you might like it." He folded my free hand over the complete set.

"Why're you giving me shells?"

A smile. "You'll remember soon."

"What's your name again?"

"Kiyota."

I tried to wrap my mind around it, but the name kept slipping. I closed my eyes. Sleep was coming again. "I'll remember soon."

~010101~

For the first time, I woke up to pain and a razor-sharp remembrance of everything that happened. My fingers closed around the cool shells Kiyota put in them. Over them, bigger, warmer hands rested.

"Oniisan."

His smile was strained and his eyes worried and he looked sleepless, but he was giving me his full, undivided attention after what seemed like an eternity. That made everything almost worth it.

"Welcome back."

"I'm not dead."

"No," he agreed, stroking the back of my hands. They were a horror of pins and medical tape.

"Sorry. Did I...take you away from semi-finals? Did you win?"

"We won," he said, his eyes never once leaving mine. "Kainan is district champion again."

"Congratulations." When I closed my eyes again, sleep didn't come. "I think...I'll go back to Switzerland next term."

"What? Why?" he sounded positively alarmed.

"Because I'm trouble. Oniisan was right. I have to learn to leave you alone. I have to –"

"Stay here." The urgency in his voice made me look. "I don't want you to leave me alone. Don't go back. I want you here."

"But you said –"

"Forget what I said!" He stood, and in one swift motion cupped my cheek and melted right into my mouth. It was quick, but that kiss got his point straight across. "You're not the only one mired in this mess."

**~010101~**

**A/N: Whew. This chapter made me feel rather silly because every single time I ran the suicide scene through in my head, all I kept seeing were bloopers and plot holes! Ahhh... I don't really *feel* this story as I used to when I wrote the previous ones, but that may be because I haven't immersed myself in Slam Dunk in such a long time. Nevertheless, I did try my best to do justice to the canon characterizations. I hope I did okay. (Sorry Maki, I think I messed you up! _)**

**Wheeee~~~ I've had these last two chapters on my computer for the longest time but didn't put them up because I thought I could change things around, thicken the plot or the drama or whatever...and then I realized that I wasn't writing for thick plots or drama. I was writing to get a point across. So I'll keep doing that while smoothing snags and cleaning everything up into one tidy little package. Ciao~~**


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